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thirstworldproblemss · 7 months

Text

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom: Moon Knight Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length: 5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.

“Do you need me to stop?"

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it.

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

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#moon knight #moon knight fic #jake lockely #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x you #f reader #oi stuff #fanfic #astroboots #thirst world problems #lemon #q #red flags 'verse

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justporo · 1 month

Note

Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x you #poro headcanons #bg3 companions #astarion x reader

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simp4konig · 6 months

Text

Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

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ceruleancattail · 11 days

Note

I see your requests are open and I haven’t made one in a long time. Feel free to not write about this because I am a sucker for only one or two aus🥹I’m just boring like that. I feel like I’m a regular at a cafe that asks for the same thing- I’m so sorry😭🙏

Firstly, HOW ARE YOU and take your time with these requests💖🫶 may I ask for a Nightfall Leona and Floyd? Maybe diving deep into their relationship with the reader? Or how about reader catching them in the act (of their evil deeds perhaps👀) how would Leona and Floyd react?

Nah you’re good! It’s like having a familiar face drop by and I already have the order ready to go. It’s a comforting thing, like a set routine? Please don’t feel so bad about it! I really took my time with this oops-

Nightfall Au

General Headcanons for Leona and Floyd

Leona x reader, Floyd x reader

Tw: death, gore, kinda yandere because it’s a Ceru fic, of course it is-

Leona Kingscholar

The boss of Savanaclaw.

He’s very practical in the way he runs the gang. Moving men around with a hooked finger, shifting them like pieces on the chessboard. Unfortunately, he does value each and every one of them, which makes him such an interesting person to work with.

He’ll never admit it though. Always muttering about doing things with the least amount of effort needed in his part… although his operations always seem to have the least causalities as well.

Leona knows the names of every single person who’s in Savanaclaw. He’s memorised them, actually. However, if you ever mention it, Leona’s face takes on a more sober shade.

“Ain’t nothin’ much. At least I’ll know what to put on their tombstone.”

How did he discover the Lantern?

Leona has made a habit of wandering about at night. There aren’t too many people out and about then, and those who are, were normally too drunk to care about him. For a while, Leona’s just another person on the street. It suits him just fine, really. He’ll pick a lonely corner shrouded in shadow, watching people stagger by silently. Quietly observing, taking note of each person’s pace, the way they carried themselves.

As tiresome as people were, reading them like a book was something that came naturally to Leona. Although like with every skill, it has to be practised and honed, lest the blade of talent turns dull.

Sometimes, he gets a little peckish. Walking about in the dark does that to a person. By chance, he walks by the Lantern. A 24 hour cafe, lights still twinkling from within glass doors. He pauses in front, watching the person manning the counter. How hardworking, they seemed to be. A little anxious as well, rearranging pastries over and over again. It was a rather adorable sight.

You’d piqued his interest, rather you like it or not.

Relationship with Him

It feels like he exists just to frustrate you, sometimes. Leona takes forever with his orders, dragging a crooked finger across the menu. He often has the most ridiculously convoluted orders ever, with a seemingly endless list of requirements. He likes watching your lips curl in frustration, as you mutter his order quietly under your breath.

How you’re so clearly annoyed with him, but you’re still rushing around the kitchen all the same, determined to fulfil whatever he says. It’s almost as you take it as a personal challenge.

Leona likes to watch you bustle around, pouring out your very heart into the meal. There’s a passion burning behind those eyes as you busy yourself with his order. There’s little he misses, especially if it’s about you. Your little habits in the kitchen, the way you hold your utensils… Leona sees and remembers it all.

He also doesn’t miss the gleam in your eyes and you place his order before him, beaming at a job well done. That pride you take in your work is rather respectable. Your smile then is also pretty cute, honestly.

As much Leona likes to tease, you hardly feel any malice from his actions. It’s almost as if you’re being batted around softly by a cat’s paws, a treasured possession. Something to amuse him, for a while. Yet there was a warmth behind his expression, whenever you met his gaze. An almost tender look.

Ever since Leona started frequenting your cafe, tools haven’t seem to be breaking down as often. Heck, you don’t even remember having this much silverware. It’s almost as if they multiply by themselves every week… how strange.

Probably nothing much… right?

If He’s caught in Red-Handed

Leona doesn’t take drastic measures to appear like a normal citizen. Lying to you would be too much of a bother, so what he does is to mislead you. If you question about his occupation, Leona just says he runs an organisation. He’ll not elaborate much, only keeping things to short sentences and grunts, neither confirming nor denying any of your questions.

Although if he’s finally caught in the act, it would probably in the name of protecting you or the cafe. Calmly shooting someone who dared to attempt a robbery in the Lantern point blank, without even so much as a change in expression. Leona would simply call up some of his men to clean up the mess.

Don’t worry, no crime will be linked back to you, so don’t worry your lil’ head, herbivore.

If you’re shocked, he’s just going to laugh at the way your eyes widen. Did he ever tell you what he did? No? So why are you surprised by this? Whatever expectations you have in your head, dash them.

He’s a murderer, and that’s what he’ll stay as.

Chuckling coldly, he’ll simply tuck his payment under his cup, before walking off into the night. Having people target the cafe means that you’ll be in danger. So Leona will simply take his leave. Let those ruffians chase him instead.

He’ll still keep tabs on you, watching from building rooftops, from within parked cars. Leona’s still staring wistfully into the kitchen you roam within. Even after all his big talk, he’s the one who can’t leave you.

Although if you were the one who was attacked, you’ll get to see the brutality of Leona Kingscholar. A shot to the head was too merciful for scum like them. Leona’s arm snakes around your waist, yanking you closer to him. While he fires round after round into the attacker’s thighs, rendering them immobile. What happens next? Leona wouldn’t let you see.

He’ll yank you into his coat, shielding your eyes from whatever gruesome scene awaits before you. A part of him feels a pang of pain at the way you shiver and tremble within his grasp. You’ve been led to believe the great big cat who frequented your store was docile. Now, you’ve seen his fangs.

For once, you’re afraid of the lion.

You won’t have any say, if this happens. Leona’s dragging you into a car and taking you… somewhere. Somewhere “safe”. Everything you need from your house? He’s sending men over right now to grab everything they can. You were almost murdered on Leona’s watch. You can bet he’s worried to death about your safety now.

You’re just some herbivore, after all. If he wasn’t there… no. He was there. And he’ll always be, from now on.

You’ll never leave his side ever again.

Floyd Leech

The famed loose canon of Octavinelle, Floyd Leech. Dual wielding a pair of destructive guns, he’s famed for the absolute blood baths he leaves behind. He’s who Octavinelle sends whenever they want to make a statement. Whether it’s to threaten rival gangs to return what they’re owe, or to destroy them entirely, Floyd’s the guy for the job.

The only problem is that he’s a little too unpredictable for fine operations. If you make him wait too long, he’s stepping on the gas and leaving you far, far behind in the dust. Not the best trait you’ll want in a getaway driver.

As crazed as people make him out to be, Floyd can be reasoned with. He actively ensures that whatever deals he deals are “fair” in the loosest sense. Both parties have to gain something, in order for it to be called a deal, after all.

If something’s a waste of time, Floyd would tell you that straight up. Was it him being kind, or could he just not be bothered to lie? Nobody really knows.

How did he discover the Lantern?

He was probably hungry. For those who lurk within the shadows, the night is the best time to work. After all, it’s called the “dead of night” for a reason. It’s already dead, so what’s the difference of adding more deaths to that phrase?

The problem is that not a lot of stores are open at these ungodly hours, and Floyd’s pretty sick of eating instant meals. Sure, they’re tasty, but if you eat enough of them, they just feel… dry. Empty, in an odd sort of way. Also, if he eats too much, he’ll feel sick, so no thanks.

So he’ll drag himself from street to street, searching for something to satisfy his grumbling stomach. Until he spots a light in the distance, and the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread waft into his nostrils. His gaze flickers up to a signboard before him.

The Lantern, huh? The worker’s kinda’ cute. Scampering here and there like a lil’ shrimp caught up in the currents. Hey, maybe he’ll call them shrimpy.

Guess he could give this place a try. Anything’s better than eating out of a plastic box again.

Relationship with Him

Floyd pesters you all the time. Leaning over the counter, fiddling with the bell until you come out. Even then, you have to physically pry the bell out of his hands for him to stop ringing it. He’s stubborn, though.

So both of you end up in a wrestle for the bell, fingers slipping and pulling away. Floyd plays dirty, though. He’ll hold it high above your head so you’ll have to jump and try to reach it. He’s laughing all the while. Yet there’s a weakness in that tactic you exploit daily.

His sides. You’ll jab and tickle him until Floyd’s laughing hysterically, and the bell will drop. These little tussles add some colour to your day, at the very least. After a shift of standing idle, a playful fight helps to get some blood pumping. As much as you grumble about it, you have to admit that it’s fun.

Floyd always seems to pop in at odd hours, so most of the time it’s just you and him. While you’re whipping up his massive order (how can one guy eat that much?), Floyd’s doing some redecorating. Pushing all the tables together to form one big table, arranging the chairs so there’s two of them, facing each other.

Sometimes, if you’re shorter than him, he stacks up the chairs as a personal jibe at you. If you’re taller than him, now he’ll stack up his own chairs, so he towers above you.

Floyd always shares half of what he orders with you. Even if you refuse, he’s grabbing you by the wrist and forcing a spoonful of desert into your mouth. How is it? Isn’t it so good? Y’know, Floyd does really like the cooking here. He does appreciate the effort you put into each and every single thing you serve, so what better way to thank you than to encourage force you into taking a break?

Besides, there isn’t anyone else in the store now. Just you and him. Aw, you went all red when he said that. Hopeless romantic, huh?

That’s cute, shrimpy.

If He’s caught Red-Handed

Floyd’s another guy who would simply not care. Ask him no questions, and he’ll tell no lies. He effectively hushes your endless inquires with howling laughter, before his voice drops:

“Do you really want to know?”

He’s not against telling you what he does for a living, but Floyd wouldn’t want to scare you away… too soon, at least. Although, he drops a few hints here and there sometimes, just to see that flicker of panic flitter over your expression. Allowing you to catch a small glimpse of his holsters, rolling up his sleeves to reveal arms filled with tattoos swirling around his arms.

Sometimes, he’ll come to the Lantern all battered up. Nothing too drastic, only a few cuts and scrapes all over his skin. He’ll throw his arms over your shoulders, whining about how much it stings, how much it hurts until you cave in and give him some attention.

Floyd loves it when you tend to his wounds. Every touch gentle, pressing softly into his tender skin. Even your chiding sounds melodious to his ears. Man, you’re really worried about him, aren’t you?

He’s silent during those times, content with watching your hands wash and dress his wounds. Your fingertips brush against his hands sometimes, a warm caress. It’s gone all too soon, warmth vanishing into the air. Floyd’s left craving for more, long after your hands leave his skin.

Your warmth, your touch, your love… Floyd just wants it all. But he’s not rash. He’ll wait patiently for you, until the lil’ shrimp wanders into his clutches themselves… then he’ll engulf them in his embrace then. He’ll wait.

Of course, that is if you’re safe.

For Floyd, no matter whether it’s the Lantern or you that’s attacked, he’s seeing red. The Lantern was your workplace. It could have hurt you, killed you-

There’s no reasoning with Floyd on this. He’s not even going to bother with calling backup. He’s holding up both of his guns, sending bullet after bullet after the attackers with a deathly calmness. Floyd fires again and again, until the click of his guns alert him to the lack of bullets within.

Oh, if they attack you? Floyd’s pulling out all the stops. He wouldn’t even bother with a gun, effectively tackling the attacker with his arms alone, disarming them with a sharp slap to the wrist. A sadistic grin spread across his lips, you’ll have to close your own eyes as he snaps the poor attacker’s arms.

It’s messy, it’s gruesome, it’s cruel.

A pair of wet hands grab at your hands, staining your fingers a bright crimson red. Hey, why are you looking away? There’s no need to be scared now, Floyd took care of it. They were going to do so much worse to you, Y’know?

His arms snake around your torso, pulling you gently towards his torso. Floyd’s doing his best to be all soft and gentle to you, and you know that. But it’s hard not to be afraid of those same soft and tender hands, once you’ve seen them quite literally rip a person apart.

Aw, you’re trembling, Shrimpy! Relax, Floyd’s going to bring you somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s just you and him.

Isn’t that just so nice of him?

228 notes · View notes

mochamvgz · 7 months

Text

what they would save ur contact as

; i don't think this needs a synopsis? it's all in the title

; ot7 enhypen x reader

; genre: hcs, non idol au, established relationship, fluff

; warnings: slight profanity, miraculous, some members being total simps, being called short by niki

; 0.5k words

; perm taglist: @inkelea @yuerki

heeseung || ramyeon partner🍜💛

the two of you LOVE ramyeon so it's only fitting. your first date, all the way back when you guys were in uni, was having ramyeon at a local convenience store for crying out loud!

and OF COURSE you immediately fished out your phone from your pocket to change his contact to the same

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jay || my pretty girl💐 (in a completely not possesive and absolutely unpatriarchal way!)

if you saw xander hawthorne you're a real one pls marry me

we already know this guy is THE ultimate green flag so this came as a surprise to no one

you and jay are also massive feminists and no sticklers for insecure masculinity hence the parenthesis

when you find out what you're saved as on his phone you can't help but fall in love with your boyfriend all over again

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jake || bugaboo🐞❤️🖤

if you think miraculous is a kids show GET OUTTA HERE

"there's no way you saved me as that"

"why? is there a problem bugaboo?"

without a word you unlock your phone, open ur contacts, scroll down to find his and hold it up in front of him

jake raises his brow at you and directs his attention to your screen, his mouth immediately forming an 'o'

" ‘chat noir’ ? oh my god you're kidding!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunghoon || (name)

the guy first saved your number when you were paired up for a project which was 2 whole years ago mind you and for some reason it just never? occurred? to him? to change it??

of course you're mad when you find out

"seriously hoon?"

"i'm sor-"

"give me your phone"

he complies. you unlock and open his contacts going to ‘favourites’, clicking on your contact which is at the top of the list duh

you change your contact name from ‘(name)’ to ‘the love of my life💘’ and hand his phone back. he raises his brows when he sees what you did but doesn't say anything because it's true

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunoo || QWEEN🙌👑

"YES!!! GO QUEEN!!!"

you guys were hanging out at his place one day, all snuggled up watching a movie and the female lead just did something super badass making you jump up

sunoo doesn't waste a moment grabbing the opportunity

"but you're my queen"

you're surprised at the abruptness of the compliment but try to appear more ‘seriously dude?’ rather than a blushing mess

"what? it's true i even have your contact saved as that"

he brandishes his phone to show you

there's no stopping the blush now

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jungwon || yang jungwon's girlfriend 😤💖💓

when you ask him why he's referring to himself in third person he'd say

"in case my phone ever gets stolen or something, the thief would still know you're mine"

you can't take it anymore and burst out laughing

"what?" he'd ask with his brows furrowed

"you're ridiculous"

"but you still love me" he's right about that

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

niki || shortie🙄

to be fair your height is above average but your boyfriend is a fucking giant and even then you're only like 2 cm shorter

he still can't leave it alone tho and teases you about it to no end

"are you for real?"

"what? it's true ya know"

"for fuck's sake it's only 2 cm"

and just like that the two of you are at it again

; a/n: surprise surprise! my first hc yayyy! i hope this turned out okay bc i had no idea what i was doing lmao💀 ily if you got the reference in the jake one no i don't just mean miraculous

680 notes · View notes

purplekiwis · 8 months

Text

𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

Summary: While they're on opposite ends of the social spectrum, Y/N and Harry have been the closest of friends for years. But could it be that an all-night working session for a science project helps them break out of the friendzone?

Genre: Friends to Lovers | Nerd!Harry x Badgirl!Y/N

Warnings: SMUT | Self-Deprication | This is coming-of-age story. There's no mention of their age but both characters are in their last year of high school (just a heads up in case someone doesn't want to read because of that)

Wordcount: 10k

A/N: ok y'all, so i have made a mistake.

i was like 99% sure there was a request in my inbox asking for a blurb where harry was nerdy? i found it interesting so i started working on it... only to realize halfway into things that that was not in fact what was written in the request 😅

i figured i might as well post it anyways since i wrote it but yeah... i'm sorry, anon! i (now) know you wanted subby!harry, but all i have to give you is nerd!harry (don't worry, i made him a lil subby just for you 🤫)

also, before y'all flood my inbox with asks about the non finished fics (rightfully so) i hear you and i'm very, very sorry for the lack of updates. i had to take a break because i kept feeling like the texts i could come up with weren't good enough for the stories i wanted to tell. i still partly feel that way, but i'm hoping the lack of real harry content will inspire me to write more in the near future. thank you for reading my dumb little stories, i love you 💖

****************************************************************

Harry was never too fond of grocery shopping.

He really didn’t like the whole “put things inside the cart, remove things from the cart at the cashier, bag them, put them back into the cart, get them in the car, take them out of the car, bring them inside and put them away” process.

It was extremely inconvenient to him.

It was also very time-consuming, though Harry believed this particular belief of his was directly influenced by having to grocery shop with his grandparents every other day.

Naturally, they were slower than he was, so he'd just drag his feet behind them, push the cart and wait for them to ask him to grab something from the shelves that their aging pains no longer allowed them to reach.

That part was fine, what bore him the most was how easily they got sidetracked by trinkets that weren’t on the shopping list. Oh! And how they always managed to locate a random old couple they knew from God knows where who engaged them in talks that appeared to stretch for hours.

Harry would try and make up reasons not to go with them sometimes, but he always felt a little guilty about it afterwards. After all, it was a very small favor for him to help his grandparents with their groceries, considering they had been the ones to provide him with a loving home after his parents failed to do so.

People always seemed to feel sorry for him when they found out he'd grown up without his “real parents” around, but he'd never had reasons to complain, really. Unlike his parents, Joe and Martha had always treated him nicely and made him feel genuinely loved.

They were a little overprotective at times, but like Y/N always said, that was probably because they were retired and watched too much TV.

Speaking of Y/N, Harry didn't hate grocery shopping with her so much. He even kind of enjoyed it as long as the space wasn't too crowded. That day it wasn’t, which he was extremely thankful for because it reduced the chances of them bumping into any familiar faces who might ask about his grandparents, or if the pretty girl he was with was his girlfriend.

That’s another thing he detested about running into people his grandparents were friends with - they loved to pester him with indiscreet questions about his love life that made him go red-faced. It was even worse when he happened to be with Y/N during those times; fortunately, she was always a bit clueless about it. Harry guessed that the reason for that was that she was so comfortable with their friendship that she wasn't even aware of what was going on… even if she thought it a little odd that he kept introducing her as his neighbor even though they weren't neighbors anymore.

Despite the fact that they no longer lived next door to each other, Y/N was still a frequent visitor at Harry’s house. Ever since his family relocated to a different area of the city, it had become custom for her to spend the night whenever the two had group projects to complete.

Their journey was always the same. As soon as they got off the bus from school, they would head to the supermarket to stock up on frozen pizzas and late-night goodies to help them through the long hours they’d be spending working on their computers.

They'd just grabbed their pizzas, as well as another two for his grandparents since pizza happened to be one of the few fast foods that they tolerated, and were now wandering around the drinks aisle looking at the options.

“Do you think your grandma would notice if we hid one of these in your backpack?” Asked the ex-neighbor, Y/N. The smile on her face, coupled with her mischievous gaze got him figuring she was up to no good… even before he noticed the bottle of whatever alcoholic beverage she was holding.

The idea startled him a little more than he'd like to admit. “Don’t start! And put it back before anyone sees you.”

The way his body jumped made Y/N laugh as she set the bottle back on its shelf. “Relax, okay? I was only messing with you... I knew you'd be too chicken to do it. But just so you know, they don't even ask for an ID most times.”

He replied to her with a headshake. “You're not as cool as you think just because you get drunk with your other friends every once in a while.” She didn’t seem too pleased by his remark, but Harry figured that by now she ought to know he didn't mean most of what he said when he was stressed. “You can get an iced tea… or a pepsi… or even that weird-flavored soda you like.”

“Fine.”

Harry noticed that even after he allowed her to pick the drink they’d be having later, Y/N still didn't seem particularly happy with him. She trailed behind him in silence while he pushed the cart around and didn't even appear to care when they walked past the shelf where her favorite snack was.

“Did you know that statistically, people who start drinking in their teens have a 5 times higher likelihood of becoming alcoholics than those who only start later?” Harry knew it probably wasn't the best conversation topic to get her to talk to him, but it was the only thing that came to mind in the moment.

“Did you know that stating facts like that makes you look 1000 times more of a nerd than you already are?”

Harry snorted at her retort. “You didn't seem to mind me being a nerd when you asked me to work on the review paper with you.”

“I do every school project with you, why should this be any different?”

He smirked at that. It was true. He and Y/N had attended every academic year together since they first met in elementary school, and they had managed to enroll in almost all of the same classes each time. They were currently in their senior year of high school, and their friendship was still pretty solid despite their different personalities and social interests.

Y/N was in the midst of a rebellious phase. In the beginning it all had been quite harmless, with her obsession with dyeing the ends of her hair crazy colors and pairing fishnets with knee socks. That somehow led her into starting to hang out with people Harry considered to be a little unnerving.

He wasn't sure what exactly made him nervous about them... Maybe it was because he was a little resentful over having to “compete” for Y/N's attention and feared he would one day completely lose her to them, given that they were undoubtedly the cooler part of the equation. Perhaps part of it was also because those people reminded him of the kind who used to bully him for being a dork when he was younger. Thankfully, he wasn't being bullied as much anymore, but he still didn't have many friends.

He also barely interacted with girls, as one might expect. There were times he had crushes, but he was always afraid to talk to them, so things never really progressed anywhere. Thus, Y/N was really Harry's only female friend.

He confesses sometimes he was surprised she still wanted to hang out with him as much as she did. When she became popular, Harry naturally assumed she would ditch him for social status reasons, but that never happened, which was a big relief to him since he really liked having her around.

They were both geeky, so they watched a lot of sci-fi movies and played video games together... but when it came to other things, they were a little different. Y/N had a much better sense of style, was much more social, and enjoyed doing dumb things like smoking weed and getting drunk behind her parents’ backs.

Harry had never really understood the appeal of it. In fact, his lack of interest in participating in grown-up stuff sometimes worried him a bit, but again... it wasn’t like he wasn’t curious.

There were a few times when he thought it would be cool if he could hang out with Y/N and her friends, go out drinking, dance, and maybe, just maybe, if he was very very lucky, even get to kiss someone on the mouth.

But then he always ended up reasoning that people like him weren't welcome at parties and that if he ever dared to step foot into one he'd probably end up being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

Even knowing so, he couldn't help fantasizing about it… especially the last part. Yes, Harry definitely thought about intimacy a lot more than he'd ever be willing to admit… and he also pondered a lot about how being practically invisible to girls sucked… and about how much he wished one would give him a chance.

He was aware of his issues, however. He knew he wasn’t exactly the hottest guy around. His haircut and clothing were out of style, mostly because he lacked the confidence to mess with his looks and follow the trends the way other people did. He’d buy new t-shirts sometimes; the only thing was that they almost always had videogame-related designs which obviously didn't do his style much good.

But it wasn’t all bad. Harry knew he had nice eyes… he just couldn't get the girls to come close enough to notice them. He figured the way he mostly stared at the floor when he walked, along with the thick glasses he had been wearing since his childhood had also taken part in preventing people from noticing how exquisite his peepers were.

He thought Y/N had nice peepers as well, and he liked the way she accentuated them with make-up… even when her eyeliner turned out a little uneven or got smudgy because she forgot she had it on and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

She'd been doing that a lot in the last hour they'd been working on their paper, which was making Harry feel a little bad.

It had been a good while since they had returned from the supermarket. The issue was that when they arrived at his house, they found Harry's grandparents working in the backyard. And while Harry had never been a fan of getting his hands dirty in the garden, Y/N thought it would be nice to offer to help, so they ended up spending a good chunk of their afternoon pulling weeds and pruning flower bushes.

And then, since it was already close to dinner time when they finished, they decided it would be best to begin working on the paper after eating and showering the gardening sweat off their bodies. That plan was shelved, however, because Harry really wanted to play Mortal Kombat since it was multiplayer, and he rarely had anyone to play it with. So they wound up wasting an additional hour on that.

Normally, by that time in the evening Y/N would already be working on her part, but as they'd started late, she wasn't. Also, being the control freak he was, Harry always wanted to be the one in charge of the research portion of any papers they worked on. Leaving the final task of writing and flourishing to Y/N.

So the poor girl had been sitting next to him in bed for hours, watching him go through articles on his laptop.

Harry could tell by the increased frequency of her yawns that her battery was running low, so he wasn't the least bit surprised when he heard her hesitantly ask, “Are you planning on staying up working much longer? Aren’t you getting tired?”

“Um… not really. I came across this really interesting essay on our subject and want to make sure we gather all of their data.” He was so preoccupied with copying and pasting that he didn't even look away from the screen as he replied to the question. “It's a shame we don’t have any hot springs nearby... wouldn't it be cool if we could actually collect samples of these microbes to study them in the lab?”

“Are you for real?” She looked at him like he was crazy as she let her back slide halfway down the headboard. “You’re telling me that you really find water microbes that intriguing?”

“Not all of them, it’s just that I’d never considered the possibility that there could be species growing and thriving in actual boiling water… since, you know, that’s what’s supposed to kill them.”

“I didn’t find it so surprising, which is making me wonder if it could be that I’m smarter than you...”

“Not a chance.” Due to the silence that followed his teasing, Harry realized that Y/N was nearing sleep but was resisting in order to maintain her supportive role. “Should I go get the air mattress to make your bed?”

“I can't sleep. I haven't done my part yet.”

“It's fine; we still have the entire day tomorrow to finish.”

“Don't bother with me if you’re focused on the paper. I just need rest my eyes a bit, but I won’t fall asleep.” She promised, but Harry knew better than to believe her. “You don't mind if I cover up with your sheets, right? Your room’s a bit chilly.”

“No, not at all.” He didn't mind it, in fact, he even found it a little exciting. Not in a pervy way, but it felt good to know that a pretty girl would be laying in his bed and would most likely leave a bit of her girly scent on it. Harry tried not to dwell on those kinds of thoughts over Y/N too much, but of course he thought she was pretty. He wasn’t that blind.

He hadn't always felt that way. For a long while Harry just thought of her as his best friend, but she'd grown into her curves in the last couple of years and he would be lying if he said his eyes and mind didn't occasionally wander. He felt a little bad about it, but it wasn't like he was ever going to do anything other than fantasize, so he supposed it was alright… as long as she didn’t catch on.

Truth be told, he’d always liked Y/N’s personality, but as of recently her looks and the way she dressed had also made her the type of girl he was attracted to on the outside. Yes, it was always the girls who wore alternative clothing and scowled at people like they wanted to break their nose that caught his eye.

He was aware that his preference sounded extremely stereotypical coming from a shy loser like him, but it wasn’t like he could help what he was keen on… or the way his body warmed up whenever he felt the pressure of Y/N’s soft boobs against his side.

“Is the entire chapter on Volcanic Islands really necessary?” She asked, leaning further into him so she could see the laptop screen despite being laid down.

“I'm not sure if it's necessary, but I thought we should at least mention these two hot spring locations since they keep coming up in the articles.” He could feel her sigh of defeat on his arm. “It’s already halfway done. I've already gotten all the info about Iceland… now all that's left is this tiny archipelago from Portugal.” With that, Harry rushed to type the final location on the Google search bar but was taken aback by Y/N's chuckling, that seemed to come out of nowhere. “What are you laughing at?”

“Do you not know how to delete your browsing history?” She asked him, still laughing.

Harry's brows furrowed slightly, but he smiled along. “Huh, why? Seriously random that.”

“Random, really? I may only be half awake, but I can still see.”

“See what?”

“See Pornhub come up on your suggestions when you started typing Portugal.” Harry's face dropped instantly. Then, with a harsh slam, he shut his laptop lid. He could feel his entire body tensing up just as a blazing sensation swept across his face, hotter than he'd ever felt before. “Harry, relax! You look like you’re about to blow up!” Y/N remarked when she saw him like that. She seemed rather worried about it as she clung to his arm to try to calm him down. “Hey, look at me, this isn’t a bad thing. You don't have to-”

Before she could say anything else, Harry curled up in a ball, covered his face with his sheets and muttered, “Yes it is. It’s embarrassing.” Honestly, even that felt like a tame word to describe how he was feeling. This was, hands down, one of the most awkward circumstances he’d ever been in. He wasn't prepared to deal with it, so he chose to remain hidden and avoid further conversation.

He knew he'd have to come out at some point, but he couldn’t bear the thought of facing Y/N knowing that she knew he watched porn and wanked. It was making him feel all kinds of yucky, which was why he was a bit shocked by what happened right after.

Y/N ventured under the sheets after him, and eventually nestled into his side. The warmth felt nice, but being so close to her was weird. He liked it a lot, but it also made him feel worse at the same time, given that she'd been the catalyst for his breakdown in the first place and all that. Plus, he still couldn't wrap his head around why she wanted to touch him when he felt so icky.

Despite the fact that they were right next to each other, it took a while for one of them to venture breaking the silence. By the time Harry tried, he had a dry mouth, so he had to swallow first. “I know it’s not your fault, but I'd honestly rather you hadn't said anything because knowing you saw is making me feel really gross.”

His faltering whispers seemed to stun Y/N a little, as if she'd already accepted that they wouldn't be talking for the rest of the night. “There's no need for you to feel that way… especially not with me.” She returned his hushed words. “I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you'd get like this. I was just trying to be funny.”

“I know, but it still bothers me.” Harry was a little surprised by how at ease he felt speaking in quiet whispers while hiding under his covers. For some reason, talking to Y/N in this setting wasn’t as mortifying as he'd anticipated. “And just to be clear, I have no idea how that stupid website ended up in my suggestions. I always use incognito mode for that stuff.”

He couldn't see her, but he could feel her shrug. “You must have forgotten to open a new tab at some point. It has happened to me before.”

“Oh. So. You watch it too?”

“Doesn't everybody, at least once in a while?”

“I don’t know… I suppose they must, yeah.” They both fell quiet for a bit, but not for longer than a few breaths as Harry felt the urge to clarify something. “I don't want you to think I'm a perv, though. I don't watch it all that often… not the kind of stuff that you’re probably thinking I watch, anyway.”

“What do you think I think you watch?”

“I don’t know, like… classic, scripted porn… you know, the typical “oh no, I’m stuck!” cringe stuff that always shows up on the main page.”

“Um… I’ll be honest, you’ve always came across as more of a Hentai guy to me. And before you say anything, this isn't just me calling you a weeaboo. I’ve watched my share too and overall I think it's much better than that other porn you were talking about.”

“Yeah, fine... I'll admit that I like Hentai, but it’s not all I watch.” Harry wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so keen on sharing, but he was really enjoying their conversation. He found the topic interesting, and he'd never had the chance to discuss it with anybody in person before so… it was fun. And, on top of that, Y/N was disclosing a bit too and he liked that he was getting to know this part of her as well. “Do you know what audio porn is?” She hummed and nodded yes. “Cool, so, there’s this category called ‘guided masturbation’ that’s basically just girls talking and telling you what to do. There’s no visual content really, but it has a very intimate feel to it that I like... almost as if you're on the phone with someone.”

“That's interesting, actually. I always thought that audio porn mostly for women, since, you know... everyone says men are visual creatures.” She shifted her weight slightly, turning towards him. “But you still find real naked girls hot, right? the sight of them?”

“Well, of course. I’d be worried if that wasn’t the case.” Her question struck Harry a little, but he liked that she was acting curious and asking him things. “Honestly, I think the reason why I don't watch more regular porn is because I can't picture myself living out the fantasies. I don’t know, it’s weird to explain.”

“You can’t picture yourself in a sexy plumber costume ready to unclog a hot milf’s pipes?”

Harry snorted. “You're joking, but that's pretty much what it is.”

She hummed as she drew closer to him on the bed. This time her, placing her head into the crook of his arm. Her mouth was closer to Harry's ear in this position, although he wasn't aware of this until he heard, and felt, her whisper again. “Is that why you like it when girls tell you what to do? because it seems a little more plausible?”

Harry wasn't usually one to cuss, but shit. Hearing her whisper that somewhat snarky question so close to his ear struck a chord with him. It was freaking hot and kind of reminded him a bit of the audios he liked. Obviously, it wasn't as explicit, but it was better in many ways. A huge downside to the experience, however, was that it was extremely difficult to concentrate afterward. In fact, in the midst of his thoughts, Harry almost forgot to reply. “Um… I guess? I’m sorry, I kind of forgot what the question was.”

“No, it’s all good. I’m sure you must be getting tired.” With that, Y/N crawled out from under the covers. As she did so, her hand stumbled onto Harry’s toppled over laptop. “Oh, I didn’t even notice this was here. We should probably turn it off, right? Assuming you don't want to keep working after this.”

Harry also came out from hiding and sat up in a position similar to hers, with his legs partially covered by the covers. As his eyes re-acclimated to the brightness of the room, he massaged them a little. “Sure. I’ll just need a moment to, uh… make sure the file got saved properly, if that’s okay.”

Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, Y/N snatched his pillow from his side of the bed. She tucked it under herself and slid back under the sheets. “I've got a comfy bed already so… feel free to take as much time as you need.”

He laughed at her antics as he readjusted the laptop over his legs and opened it. Turns out the file had been autosaved, but Harry still saved it once more before switching off his computer and setting it over his desk. “Yeah, that's fine. I don’t mind giving you my bed for the night and sleeping on the air mattress for a change.”

“Or you could spare yourself and sleep right there instead of stressing about which one of us will be sleeping on the floor.”

Her offer caused his eyebrows to rise, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing to do. He liked the idea of it but was a little concerned about accidentally doing something embarrassing in the middle of the night. What if he made a toot? Or worse, had a wet dream? He hadn't had any recently, but one never knew when it might start happening again. In any case, he'd probably wake up with a stupid morning wood as usual, which was something that he could typically make go away before he got up when Y/N was around… but if she was going to sleep next to him, wasn’t there a chance she could tell? That prospect made him terrified. “Um… I'm not sure that I'm a good sleep partner; My grandma says I used to move a lot in my sleep when I was small.”

“Oh. I don’t mind. I just really don't want to go to sleep by myself for some reason.” Y/N shrugged, leaving him unsure of what to say next. It was already difficult to say no when it wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it became nearly impossible when he looked at her and met her begging eyes.

Well then, if she was being so casual about it, he figured it must not be that common for people to do humiliating things in their sleep, contrary to what he had previously been led to believe by his insecurities. The other factor that was pushing him to say yes was that having to get up to grab the air mattress from the attic and make Y/N a bed sounded a little too demanding for how lazy he was feeling. His bed wasn't even tiny either, so they'd have plenty of room to spread out without troubling one another throughout the night. “Ok, alright. But don't grumble tomorrow about having trouble falling asleep because of me. This was entirely your idea.”

“I don’t grumble.” He made sure to let her see his eyeroll before turning off the lights and getting into bed with a second pillow for himself. No one said anything for a bit, they were just adjusting their positions in search for the most comfortable one. Harry was still wide-awake, but he believed it wouldn't be long until Y/N fell asleep. She was already close to when they were working on the paper, so it shouldn't take long at all.

She proved him wrong, though, when she blurted out something after minutes of being quiet. “I have another question for you...”

“Oh. What’s that?”

Harry saw a shadow that he believed to be her head poking up from the pillow, propped on what should be her arm. Her voice sounded quite chirpy too, which meant he’d probably underestimated how awake and willing to chat his friend actually was. “Have you ever… like, kissed anyone?”

“That’s so random.” It was during times like these that Harry wished he could travel back in time. If he could turn back the clock and pretend to be asleep two seconds ago when Y/N asked if she could ask him a question, he wouldn’t even think twice. Heck, he'd even pretend to snore if it meant not having to respond but alas, since Harry didn’t have any time travel abilities, that wasn’t an option anymore. She knew he was awake and was anxiously awaiting his response. “You're quite random sometimes, Y/N...”

Her voice was hushed, yet a little taunting. “That’s not an answer.”

Harry sighed, realizing she wasn't going to let him off the hook until he participated in the discussion she wanted to have. “Alright, then… define kissing... does something like a peck qualify?”

“No, Harry. I'm talking about actual kissing. Tongue and all.”

“Oh um. I knew that, obviously.”

“And did you do it or not?”

“Yeah I, uh. I've kissed...” His words stumbled slightly. They didn't come out as cool or confident as he’d hoped, but he did try to make his statement sound plausible. “But it wasn’t with a lot of tongue... just like, a little bit.”

Y/N let out a snort at his unconvincing answer. “You’re a shit liar, but fine. I used to lie about it too when people asked me.” Rather than defending himself, Harry didn't say anything, which told his friend all she needed to know. “Is it something you think about, though? would you like to do it?”

“Well, yeah… of course I’d like to. Even some of the guys I hang out with have done it... and you’ve seen them.” Harry felt a bit mean making that remark about his friends' looks. Obviously, he wanted them to have someone who liked them, but that didn’t change the fact that none of them had much going in terms of physical appeal. “I'm not saying this to make you feel sorry for me. I know I’m the problem and that the reason why I haven’t kissed yet is because I’m not a kissable person. My only hope is that things will change once we start college. I don't know if I ever told you before, but I would really like to get contacts soon. I was also thinking it could be nice to start exercising more just so clothes would fit me better. What do you think? It should help, right?”

Even in total darkness, Harry could tell that Y/N's eyebrows were deeply furrowed by her tone of voice. “Who was it that told you you weren't kissable?”

“Nobody needed to tell me. I see myself every time I look in the mirror. I dress like my grandpa and have a bit of a hunch like him too.”

“I think you're mistaking being unattractive for wearing clothes that aren’t particularly flattering. It's very different.” Harry knew she couldn't see it, but he was kissing his teeth at what she’d said. “If the reason why you want to make those changes is to feel better about yourself, then you have my full support… I do, however, have a feeling that’s not all it is, so I hope you realize that you don’t have to bend over backwards to be likable or kissable, or anything else. You already are all of those things exactly as you are.”

“I appreciate you sugarcoating things in order to cheer me up but if what you are saying were true, and I was fine the way I am, I wouldn't have this much trouble finding someone who saw that in me.” He sighed, a little annoyed by her efforts. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s hard for me to believe you’ll ever understand what it feels like to be me. You’re like... the coolest, most kissable girl ever.”

There was a slight click, and suddenly the room got soaked in an orange light that caused Harry to squint despite his familiarity with it. His bedside table lamp was on, and Y/N was staring at him in awe. “You think I’m kissable?”

Crap. Had he really blurted it out that way? He couldn't recall the precise words he had used, but it seemed unlikely that Y/N was asking him that for no reason. She looked very taken aback by what she’d heard, and Harry, who still hadn't a clue how he’d managed to put his foot in it yet again, felt his face turn red and his tongue stutter once more. “Not in a weird way! Maybe I phrased it in a way that made it seem like I was being weird, but it was just a form of expression. Not that what I said isn’t true, but I would never say it like that. Even if I wanted to kiss you, which has never crossed my mind until now, really. I don't know why my brain decided to picture that ridiculous scenario all of sudden.”

“Hm.” Y/N’s gaze was drawn to her hands as he finished. Harry observed that she was picking at her nail polish, which was rather unusual for her unless she was getting nervous. “Is it really that ridiculous? I mean, if you wanted to, I wouldn't mind...”

His forehead wrinkled. “Why? Because you feel sorry for me?”

“No Harry, because I'd like to.”

“Me? You’d like to kiss me? Why?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” Her tone was a little hesitant, but she carried on. “Aff, okay… screw it. I might as well tell you since we’re talking about it. So, I, uh. I have a bit of a thing for you. I’ve had it for a while, but it was never too serious… just a little crush since well, I never really felt like there was a real possibility that it could be reciprocated. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner, that and because I wasn't sure how things would turn out if you rejected me so… I figured it would be best not to say anything.” She shrugged once more, as a small smile formed on her lips. “You’ve also never mentioned having any crushes or expressed attraction for anyone in particular, so I thought maybe you weren't interested in that type of stuff much.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry rolled over in bed, facing away from her. It wasn’t unusual of Y/N to play practical jokes on him from time to time, but this one did not go over well with him. It seriously screwed with his self-esteem and since it was her, he could have easily been tricked into admitting something regarding his feelings, what made it even worse. “I know you’re taking the piss and I don’t think it’s funny at all.”

“Why would I be taking the piss? Do you really think I'd joke about something like this? And look at me when I'm speaking to you!” She pulled on his shoulder, compelling him to lie onto his back so she could at least see his face.

Harry complied with her, but not without a groan. “I'm serious Y/N. If you’re trolling, this is your one chance to say so ‘cause If I find out later that you were doing this to trick me or to see me make a fool of myself or to get me flustered, I'm going to get really, really angry at you.”

“I may play a lot of dumb jokes, but I don't play with people's feelings like that… let alone my friends' feelings. I'm dead serious, Harry. It's really not that hard to see it if you think a little.” She huffed, upset that he wasn’t taking her seriously. She'd guessed he’d act a little wary at first but hadn't expected him to think she was pulling a prank on him. How could he have missed that she had a thing for him anyway, with how touchy she was when they were alone together? With her acting so eager to be his first kiss? She'd been shit at hiding it for years. It was so clear. “Do you remember that time when we were 9, my parents took us to a fancy playground with boats and there was a girl there who had a Nintendo but wouldn't let me play with it, she would only let you, so I snatched it from your hands?”

"Yeah, I remember.” As he replied, Harry was unable to stop himself from letting out small laugh at the memory. “And then you threw it in the water because you'd heard from someone at school that Nintendo’s were waterproof. All the parents got so mad, and the girl wouldn't stop crying. It was awful.”

“Yeah, that. Except, I never really thought that they were waterproof. I did it because she was pretty... and it made me upset that you’d replaced me with her and left me to play alone, despite her being mean to me.” Y/N admitted, also laughing and shaking her head a bit at her childish antics. “Obviously I didn't know back then what being jealous was, but I think about that day a lot... it makes me feel embarrassed of what I did, but it also makes me realize that I've always been really possessive of you. I think if you'd turn out to have many girlfriends you would have realized much sooner that my feelings for you weren't just friendly ones.”

“Wow. Was that really what that was?” Harry was stupefied and Y/N couldn't not giggle at his open mouthed reaction. “I’m sorry, it’s just… this whole thing is really confusing. My head is spinning a bit and... being completely honest, part of me still thinks that you’re joking but at the same time, you seem serious enough so I’m gonna choose to believe you. Even if I have no idea why you'd like me that way, other than maybe ‘cause I have green eyes and am tall.

“The hair too. Don't forget your fluffy hair.” She added playfully. “No but, I like all of those things obviously, but they aren’t the reason why I like you. I just do. There’s no logical explanation for it.”

“Yeah, um. That makes sense. I mean, not really but I think I understand that feeling you were describing and… I can kind of relate to it too since I've kind of had a small crush too since last year… or well, I've realized last year... back when you were dating that Joshua guy. It made me a little jealous. I’ve always thought it was silly though, so I tried not to think about it too much.” Harry acknowledged, albeit doing it with more trepidation and delay than Y/N had. “I've had other crushes too, but they were on girls I never talked to so... they didn’t last too long.”

“Wait so… you’ve had a crush too? since that long?”

“I- uh.. I have. Yeah.”

“You must be really good at hiding your feelings then, because I never noticed anything that suggested that, much less that you were jealous. Trust me, if I had any inkling I would’ve had this conversation with you last year instead of doing what I did. I didn’t even like Joshua much… I just wanted to have someone.” She pursed her lips in a mournful smile before reaching out for Harry's hand. It wasn’t the first time that their hands had brushed, but this time something in Harry's chest was sparked by her touch, making him feel both ecstatic and stiff at the same time. “It's nice that you've had other crushes, though. I think I'd be more upset if I found out you'd been caught up on me all this time and I'd just been completely unaware of it. With that said, I don't want you thinking about other girls now. Only me.”

“Yeah, okay. Just you. I like how that sounds a lot.” Harry had no idea what had possessed him, but he felt compelled to bring her hand to his mouth and kiss it. His gesture made her giggle, but he got somewhat self-conscious afterwards. “Was that lame? Probably, right?”

“No, it was cute. I loved it.” She reciprocated by lifting his hand to her mouth and placing a kiss over his knuckles. “Is there anywhere else you’d like me to kiss?”

With a tentative smile, he gave her a direct glance before nodding. Y/N scooted a bit closer to him but as they got closer, Harry's body tightened a little. He couldn't take his eyes off her lips, yet the sight of the rosy, fluffy cushions was giving him pause. “I’m sorry if I’m not… uh… if I don’t know how to...”

She gave his cheek a comforting caress. “That’s fine, but are you okay? You’re shaking a bit.”

Harry laughed, feeling rather frustrated with himself. “Yeah, um… sorry about that. I'm just really nervous.”

“It can wait if you're not ready.” Y/N made a point of assuring him, even though she had a feeling that waiting wasn't what Harry wanted. He was just nervous, which was totally normal for someone who was about to get their first kiss. The most she could do was try to make him a bit calmer. “Is there anything specific that you're worried about?”

“No, I’m ready. It's just a bit overwhelming. This is all so alien to me… knowing you like me and all, it’s a lot for my nervous system to handle.” Y/N couldn’t not frown a bit at how adorable he was as she listened. “I- I'm also a little in over my head, thinking I probably won’t be as good as the boys you've kissed before.”

“You don't have to worry about that, really. Trying stuff until you figure out what makes the other person melt is one of the most fun parts.” She assured, before giving his hand another kiss. “We’ll learn that from one another, okay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Upon his approval, Y/N pulled herself closer and higher, until her face was barely above his. They both smiled as she rubbed her nose against his... once, twice, and then it happened. She dropped her head just enough for their lips to touch.

Her tenderness and Harry's stomach-bursting butterflies were in stark contrast, making for a bizarre, yet fascinating combination of sensations.

They weren't quite in time with one another's lips but their kiss was free flowing. And it felt flawless, akin to a Vivaldi concerto or a Michelangelo masterpiece. There was something alarming about it too, however. Suddenly, Harry could feel the relatively insignificant seed of love that Y/N had planted in his heart blossom into a giant sequoia tree. And he couldn't, for the life of him, fathom the possibility of having shared a moment as nice with anyone else.

He was truly loving whatever love spell she was casting on his body with her kissing, which is why he couldn't help but let out a low whimper when he felt their lips unglue from her pulling away. “Why did you- why did you stop?”

“Your stupid glasses are getting in my way.” She explained as she carefully started pulling them off his face. “Here, much better.” As soon as she was done placing his glasses over the nightstand, she raised her leg and straddled him. Well, sort of. It was more of an embrace; except she was laying on top of him. “This is okay, right? Not too much pressure?”

“Mh-mm. Better. Thank you.” Harry's face was flushed, and he couldn't stop smiling as he stared at her. She was so pretty, and her tummy against his felt so cozy. It was still hard to believe he had kissed her, but the sensation on his lips confirmed it was real, despite how uncanny it all felt. “I like this a lot, being this close to you.”

“Me too.” She ran her fingertips across his blushing skin. “You're so cute like this. I should’ve kissed you way sooner. You seem to like it too, don't you?”

“Mh-mm. I really do.” Harry desperately wanted more kisses from her, but he was still a little too unsure of himself to initiate. Besides, he’d really liked when she took initiative earlier and led the way so that’s what he wanted to happen again. “I’d like to do it some more, if that’s okay...”

Y/N smiled at his request, but wasted no time before she leaned in to taste his lips again.

It was mostly just smooches that they were trading, but that didn’t keep her from taking a nibble here and there. Harry was very responsive to her nibbles, which she appreciated. She’d never been with a boy who got whimpery and breathy just from making out before, but she found it to be incredibly encouraging and arousing.

What made it extra hot was knowing he wasn't doing it on purpose because he knew girls liked stuff like that. It was just how his body was reacting to her. She was also well aware that her kisses had gotten him bricked up instantaneously. His warm stiffness was palpable between her thighs, despite being covered by his pajama bottoms.

If it had been any of the boys she’d kissed before, the erection would have freaked her out a bit, but as it was Harry she thought it was cute that he was so excited. He wasn't the only one feeling this way though. The damp panties she had on served as a casual reminder that she was getting quite excited as well.

Despite her wants, Y/N had been doing a great job of controlling herself… only that task became much more challenging when Harry started getting more comfortable, more intuitive, and by default, touchier. At some point in the course of their kissing, he’d started sliding his hands up her back and, on occasion, giving her hips a squeeze. He'd noticed she was pleased by this, so he worked up the nerve to lower his hands to her bum and squeeze her there too.

“Not feeling so shy anymore, are you?” Y/N playfully teased, to which Harry responded by smiling and hiding his face by pulling her in for a hug. It hadn't been her intention to rub up on him, but he’d drew her in so close that their bellies were flush together, so when she shifted next he felt it on his crotch… and moaned, all deep and throaty. They stared at each other, until Y/N turned her mouth to Harry's ear and asked, “Do you want this? want me to do it again?”

His nodding was quick. “Just don't go too fast, ‘cause uh... might feel too good.”

“Okay, got it.” She said, then held onto the pillow under Harry’s head, nails digging into fabric as she began to move slowly on top of him. Rolling her hips to press down on the bulge in his pants. The pressure on her clit was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it was a relief to finally have a way to sooth some of the built-up tension, but on the other, it made her yearn for more friction. She was being good and taking it nice and slow like Harry had asked though.

Still, she could feel his heavy, strained breathing against her skin. “Mm, it's too much, feels… too good. Ah-” He moaned again, once her fingers gripped at the roots of his hair.

“Shh, quiet.” Y/N covered his mouth and smiled. “I love your moans, but we have to keep it quiet.” She said, before removing her hand from his mouth and putting her lips in its place.

“I know, sorry.” Harry replied once she broke their kiss. “If I get loud again, you can repeat that hand thing if you want… it was hot.”

“Hmm, was it?” She returned her hand to his lips, but this time she allowed two fingers to go inside and prod into his mouth, that he was keeping slightly ajar for her. “That’s good, Harry. You're a natural at this, I think.” She had been straddling him with her body leaning over his, but she sat upright for a moment to appreciate how adorable he looked with her fingers in his mouth from farther away. As soon as he saw her eyes fixed on him, his lips encircled her fingers, and his tongue began to softly wriggle between them. “Mh-m... that's it. Just like that.”

As she started moving her hips again, Harry's hands shot to her waist, to hold her as she rutted against him. This gave her more balance, so she ramped up the pace, rubbing harder and faster to create the desired friction for her. The change caught up with Harry quickly, who began groan restlessly into her fingers in response. She pulled them off to let him speak. “S-slow... please go slower. If you don't, I'll-”

“Make a mess. I know. Give me your hands.” As per Y/N’s request, Harry slid his hands away from her waist and held them up between their bodies. Y/N took them, entwined their fingers together and then without warning, allowed her weight to fall forward, successfully pinning him to the bed. “I know you want to, but you're ashamed about doing it in your underwear. So, I was thinking… if I keep you like this and force it out of you, maybe you won't feel so bad about wanting it anymore. What do you say?”

“I just don't want to get you dirty, that's all. I thought I could keep it under control a little better, but I can't. It feels so much better than my hand.” Harry acknowledged, smiling shyly. “That sounds hot, though… the idea of you forcing it.”

“I know but don't worry about getting me dirty. I brought extra pjs.” She gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hands. “So…you want to do it, then? Since you think it’s hot…”

A delaying groan rumbled in his throat before his lips parted into a broad smile, the kind of smile you make when you’re on the verge of breaking into laugher. “I’m going be so embarrassed about this tomorrow, but yeah. I want to.”

Y/N shook her head at him, grinning. “Don't. I've always wanted to do this. It's a bit of a fantasy of mine, I guess.” She didn’t give him a chance to react to her confession, as she started rutting against his cock again. This time she wasn’t being gentle or avoiding any harsh friction. Her movements were quicker and jerkier than they had been before, and she tightened her hold on his hands as well. She had a hunch Harry liked the feeling of being held down and used, so that's what she was doing.

He was shivering beneath her, taking fast breaths through his mouth as he looked her in the eyes. The poor baby couldn’t stay quiet for the life of him, either. His whimpers and groans were unrelenting, so she was bound to muffle him once more.

His now-free hand joined hers over his mouth, but it didn’t linger there for long since he took hold of her wrist and started guiding it downward. “My neck,” He pleaded lowly, his voice trembling. “…want your hand on my neck.”

She gave him a devilish smirk before grabbing his throat. She only needed to hold him still; there was no need to squeeze or do anything else. “And I want your cum,” she told him, hoping that slipping in a few dirty words in combination with her movements would make him snap. “…want my thighs all wet and sticky from it.”

Harry’s legs jerked beneath her. “Close,” He warned, a little startled. “So, so close…” The fact that she could not only hear him but also feel his words on his throat as he spoke was incredibly arousing. “Please…” He pled sweetly, what triggered a sudden desire in Y/N's chest to be closer. She released her hold on his throat and hugged him tight as she drove her hips into his, rutting violently to make him orgasm.

It worked.

Between her thighs, Y/N could feel his warm juices seeping through the material of her pajamas. So she kept rutting, wanting to make sure she had extracted every last drop of them.

Harry returned her tight hug all the way through his climax, and he didn’t let go after either. They remained in that position for a while, holding each other close regardless of the slightly unpleasant wetness that was binding them together. “We should probably change right?” Y/N asked after a beat, despite her lack of want to wrest away from him.

“M-hm. I’m all gross and sticky.” Harry laughed. “I’m gonna need another shower in the morning, but for now, I think I'll just wipe it off and put on new boxers. I mean if you don't mind that I don't wear pants to bed…”

“No, I don't mind. I'm gonna take mine off too.”

“Oh. That's a great idea. Sounds perfect to me.” Harry playfully quipped, before he got out of bed and started opening drawers. “Also, um… I don't know how to ask without being weird, but could you close your eyes for a moment? so I can take care of myself real quick?” Y/N said yes and turned away to give him privacy while he cleaned himself and changed. She was a tiny bit surprised that he hadn't wanted to use the restroom for that, but she figured that since it was closer to his grandparents' bedroom at the end of the corridor, he probably didn't want to risk going and waking them up. “Okay… you can look now.”

When Y/N looked at him next, the first thing she noticed was that he had on a pair of tight, black boxers. The next thing she noticed was that Harry was looking at her legs, since, as he’d probably seen when he turned, she had also stripped off her pants in the interim, leaving just her grey panties on. “What?” He smiled in response to her curious gaze.

She wouldn’t bring it up, but she could see he had grown a little hard in his boxers just from seeing her sprawled in bed with no pants on. “Nothing, you’re cute.”

Harry snorted at that. “Thanks, but you're much cuter.” He wandered across the room to where the supermarket bags were. “Are you thirsty? Do you want water or a snack? ”

“Hmm, just water if that’s okay.”

Harry handed her the water bottle and sat down on the bed next to her while she drank from it. “You didn’t cum…” he pointed out after a moment of pause.

“Oh um… yeah. I didn’t. It’s okay though.” Y/N laughed, shrugged, and took another sip of her water.

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, before scooting a little closer to her. “It must be a bit of an unpleasant feeling, no? and hard to sleep like that.”

“It is a little until it goes away but nothing that I can't handle.”

“Hm.” He hummed again, before Y/N cocked her head to kiss his lips. She’d only meant to give him a peck, but Harry changed her plans when he leaned in to kiss her deeper. He seemed really eager to continue kissing and well, she wasn't about to say no to him. Especially when he went so far as to nibble on her lip, which he hadn’t done before. He was also getting handsy with her, and she loved it. He was touching her more and focusing on the spots he'd learned she liked.

“That,” She blurted, as she paused to catch her breath. “That feels really nice.”

“M-hm.” He murmured against her lips as he kissed her again. His hand continued to grab at her as they kissed, to the point where Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She hadn’t meant to but ended up moving her knees apart out of desperation. Being so blatant almost made her feel ashamed, but she didn't because she felt Harry's palm wrap over her crotch. In response to his touch, she moaned into his mouth, and he moaned back, surprised at how her moisture had soaked through her panties. “Teach me.” He asked, softly. “I want to learn. I- um, want to make you go to sleep happy.”

“That’s so nice, Harry, really. I, um-” She smiled while wiping the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m already happy.” She didn’t know what was making her so overwhelmed with joy all of sudden. She’d always known Harry was boyfriend material, but it was still nice to see how much he gave thought to her needs and happiness. And she was happy. So, so happy to finally have him like this, all to herself. “Do you want me to show you how to touch?”

“Yes please. To make you feel good.”

“Okay.” She placed her hand on top of his. “Here,” she explained once she’d guided his fingers to the spot of her panties right above her clit. “Circular motions with your fingers feel really nice, so does pressure. You don't have to focus on just that spot though… the nicest feeling is when you rub there but also all over.” She glanced at him, then bit her lip and asked, “Wanna try?”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry responded, adjusting his position slightly so that Y/N could get more comfortable. They decided to have her sit between his legs, facing away from him since that would make it easier for her to lead him. Once they’d both settled, Harry began to touch her in the way she had showed him, moving his hand broadly enough to reach a little bit everywhere in between her legs. “Am I doing it right?”

“Mm-hmm, you're doing really good.” Y/N was still holding his hand while he touched her, and she was fascinated by the size difference between their hands. “Your hands are really big, which... makes it feel extra good.”

“Really? That’s nice. I'm definitely grateful for that.” He said while looking down as well. “Should I put more pressure, or is it okay as it is?”

“It’s fine but I wouldn’t mind a little more...” She could tell he was afraid of hurting her, and that’s why he was being so careful and gentle in his touching. She wasn’t planning on rushing him or constantly give him directions though, so instead she simply relaxed against his chest and let him probe at his own pace. Because, after all, even though he was playing safe, she was still thoroughly enjoying herself.

It took Harry a few minutes to figure out how much pressure and speed he should be using, but eventually he pressed and swirled his fingers around her sensitive nub in a way that felt just right. When Y/N’s breath faltered he glanced at her worriedly, what made her chuckle. “No, don't worry. You didn't hurt me.” She took advantage of his staring to steal a kiss from his lips. “Keep going like that.”

Harry smiled proudly at that. He’d had a feeling he was starting to get the hang of it due to the way Y/N’s breathing had become more erratic and she'd begun to quiver against him on occasion but hearing it from her mouth that he was doing a good job was much, much better. He was really looking forward to making her cum. She looked so pretty like this, flushed and a little out of breath. She'd been staring at his face a lot from over her shoulder in the last couple of minutes, biting her lip and letting out little hums of pleasure to let him know he was making her feel good.

“Like that. Don’t stop.” Those quiet, whispered words snapped him out of his reverie. He knew what they meant, even before she told him, “I’m really, really close.”

He'd learnt from a meme he saw once that when girls said that boys weren't meant to speed up or change what they were doing in the slightest, so he merely focused on adding a bit more pressure, since that was something he knew she liked, and trying to keep his hand's tempo.

Despite how hot he found it, Harry wasn't very comfortable with dirty talk, but seeing her like this and recalling the perfect, filthy words she'd said to him just before making him cum, he felt compelled to give it a shot. “I can feel how wet your panties are, it’s so hot.” He whispered into her hair. “I can smell it too and it makes me want to eat you out so bad. I've never done it before, but I can't stop thinking about doing it to you.” Rather than trying to sound hot, he was simply stating facts about how she was making him feel, and somehow it was working. “I wanna make you cum like this first though. From rubbing your little pussy this way, just like you taught me to.”

Harry's words, paired with the precise movements of his fingertips around her pussy got her right at the edge. She trembled, clutched his wrist, and strained to keep her legs open.

“Please, please, please...” She started begging out loud right before the warm pleasure bubble on her belly popped, so Harry did the same thing she’d done to him and muffled her by putting his hand over her mouth.

He hadn't anticipated being able to feel when a girl orgasmed, but he was. He could feel the strong pulse under his fingers as soon as Y/N started to cum, and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced. He could also feel the damp spot on her panties becoming even more drenched as he stroked her through it and God, the smell… it was making his mouth water.

If she didn’t look so exhausted, Harry would have begged her to let him take off her panties and lick her clean, but those puffy, glossy eyes didn't permit his mind to stray any further. If there was one thing Harry understood about Y/N, it was how she looked just before falling asleep, and that was exactly how she was getting.

So he helped her into bed and lay down beside her, but his heart wouldn't let him fall asleep before he asked, “You’re staying for the entire weekend, right?” and his ears picked up a faint “M-hm” in return.

A smile spread across Harry’s face as she pulled him in for a cuddle.

This was going to be the best weekend ever.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #nerd!harry #sub!harry #harry styles x you #purplekiwis #kissable

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factual-fantasy · 18 days

Text

23 asks! Thanks a bunch! :}} 🌠

@mimiocto

She does! Her name is Gloria :))

And if my motivation and health stays in my favor.. ya'll will learn a bit more about her and Bonnie soon... 👀👀👀

(Referencing this post)

The secret 9th eeveeloution, ghost type! <XD

@octonauts16

....Whelp, guess I'm canceling my Netflix account! <XD

(Monopoly post in question)

It was mostly a joke, XDD but none the less I'm sure no one would have taken it too much to heart! Its well known that Grim and V have a very strong bond so no one would have been surprised XDD

@candyglumboy

Thank you so much!! :DDD

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I'm glad!! :}}}

(Comic in question)

YOU!!! YOU GET IT!!!! WAHAAG THABK YOU!!! 😭😭💖💖💞

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD💞

I just slap the watermark on the drawing as its own layer and lower the opacity :00 usually putting a back blob cloud behind it at lower opacity if more visibility is needed!

....If that made any sense at all--

@userplaysminecraft

This is amongst the highest compliments my fanart can receive. Thank you 🥺🥺🥺

:DD Thank you so much!! I'm glad you love it!! :}}

@minnesotamedic186

Alas, I do not have a good tablet or stylus.. :((

But that's ok! I think I'm getting better! <:D .. I hope so at least! <:}}

@holly-opal

I haven't really ironed it out yet.. but one thing stays consistent. It sucked.

I wanted to create a situation where Mario and Luigi both did not want to go back to Earth. Sure there are things that would undoubtedly bother them a bit that I couldn't just whisk away. Never seeing another human again, never seeing any animals again.. Never hearing human songs again.. never tasting the food from Earth again..

But what I could do is make their old lives so horrible, that they were both willing to give up what they had for this new life as the "Hero's of Legend."

I pictured Mario and Luigi both being very poor. Just barely making it paycheck to paycheck. No friends, no family. No sentimentals even. Perhaps their childhood home burnt down.. so no family photo albums or old plushies to be attached to..

I couldn't decide what kind of relationship they had with their parents.. but either way, they've passed on. They worked a crappy job as plumbers which they both hated. They lived in a cruddy apartment that was too small for them. Rotten neighbors, disrespectful customers..

I pictured them having this terrible company van or truck that always broke down and stunk of cigarettes thanks to the previous owner. They were drowning in debt and bills. Trynna pay off the van, trynna buy new clothes, trynna by food...

I even imagined some of their bills and debt were medical related. I imagined Luigi being very ill and them being unable to afford food and medicine.. So Mario stole food from his clients. Maybe even robed a store or two. Now they've got "criminal" added to their list of problems.

They hated their apartment. They hated the van, they hated their neighbors, they hated people, they hated the world. They hated their lives. The only thing they had the room in their hearts to love was each other. The only thing that didn't hurt them or make them cry was each other. The only thing that made living in this horrible world worth it, was each other.

Then the mushroom kingdom came along.. "Hero's of Legend?" Magical powers? Kind people who care about us and respect us? No more debt, no more bills, no more van or apartment, no more stealing, just.. adventure. And they get to experience it all with their most favorite person in the world?

Why would they ever want to go back?

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

Alas, I do not know of any. :((( But I can imagine that the crew is nerdy enough to make their own shanty! A theme song of sorts. And you can bet that Seafoam would take pride in that song and sing it loudly with the rest of the crew! XD

@neo-metalscottic (100,000 reblogs post in question) (Octo clarification post)

Awe! That's so kind! Thank you!! :DD And I've been very glad to see my condition improve too 😌 though I'm not quite out of the thick of it yet.. :(( I hope I can fully beat it soon! <:))

As for the Great green toad king and company, I have actually never heard of them before! <:0 Though it would be very easy to label them as some far off kingdom and not put much thought into it <XDD Perhaps some of the species found in that kingdom could have become wandering travelers like Wario and Waluigi? Maybe we'd see them that way? :00

Now I know mentioning Birdo was a joke XDD But I do have plans for the Birdo species! :00

I had this idea that Yoshi's used to be smaller, about the same size they are in canon. Back then they acted as these passive.. almost farm like animals..?? In a way?? The toads used them to haul carts and as a form of transportation. Like horses! But eventually the Yoshis discovered "Yoshis island". A fruitful island planted in the middle if a giant river. A large sum of the Yoshis migrated from the forest and began to live there. Eating the super fruits and veggies it produced and slowly transforming into the giant mega Yoshis that are there today.

However, not all the Yoshi's left. A fair amount of them were kept and somehow made their way to the coast near Daisy's Kingdom. After generations and generations of Yoshi's eating red cheep cheeps and living in the water, they transformed and are now called Birdos. In present day Yoshi's and Birdos are extremely closely related, though they look a bit different from each other. And while Yoshi's come in all different colors, most Birdos grow up to be different shades of red, Pink and purple due to their red cheep cheep diet. Just like flamingos! :D

Anyways- on to the Goombas. The Goombas start out as these very poisonous brown mushrooms and are brought to life by Kamek. They form mouths and the poison that they originally had becomes poisonous saliva. So when they bite someone the poison does its job.. Even if who ever they bite is somehow immune to their poison, their bites are still nasty. They're dirty creatures and they really shred you up.. So the chance of natural infection is there none the less-

And WHAAAT?? Illumination whyyyyyyy 😭😭I love Toadsworth you had no right to scrap him--

And wow! That last battle looks crazy! My only question is who's this guy?? <XDD I don't recognize him!

Anywho- thanks again for the ask! Feel free to send more Mario ones, or not, which ever you please! I'd love to read what ever you may send :}}}

8 0 0 0 P A G E S ? ? ?

@pink088

That is the most cursed creature I have ever seen- XDD

I wanna say Louis has the most wins, buuuttttt Seafoam is so much bigger than Louis.. I feel like he would have the ability to overthrow him just by using his own body weight XDD Its hard to say!

(Ask was sent in response to this post)

SKSKKDJH ACTUALLY THO XDDDD

Oh- in order to make these ask posts I take screenshots of the asks, crop them, and then compile them all together. Usually I put them together on Tumblr desktop, so they're all blue.

But recently I've been batting some health problems and have been stuck on the couch all day.. which means that I've been making my ask posts on Tumblr mobile. Which is all black themed for me :00

Aw, thank you! Though I advice eating it with a spoon actually! In order to scoop up the tears of the characters- XDD

@caronaro-flipaclip

:0 Sponchbop! :DD Its hard to feel down with him around!

@beryl-shade

I have written many stories where characters have lost family or friends to death... but as for a character that was in the main story and I actually drew them? ..Not that I can recall! :0

#my response #super mario bros #pokemon scarlet and violet #gardevoir #ampharos #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 19 days

Text

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months

Text

Chapter 13- There's No Place Like Home

Summary: 6 months ago, Javier Peña quite literally bumped into you and changed your life forever. 6 months later, Javi prepares to ask you to spend your forever with him.

Word Count: 13.2K (reasonable of me tbh)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, massive breeding kink, one use of daddy (in reference to actually being a dad, but STILL), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of food/eating, Javi being a nervous wreck, so many surprises (hehehehehe), literally so much fluff and love and happiness AHHHHHHHHH

A/N: It's here!!! The moment we've all been waiting for since these two lovebirds first met 😭😭😭💖💖💖 I have no words, only loud screams into the abyss bc of how happy and in love these idiots are!!! Thank you to everyone that has been along on this ride, your love and support means more to me than you know 🥺🫶🏻 Also literally not that anyone cares, but I picked May 27th as just a random day when I first started writing, and the way I literally SCREAMED when I found out that Thanksgiving in 1997 fell on November 27th?!?! That, and when I first started, Javi was not proposing until the spring/summer OOPS 🤷🏼‍♀️😂

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

November 27th, 1997.

6 months.

6 months since the day he quite literally bumped into you.

6 months since he had first laid eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

6 months since the moment he already knew he was head over heels in love with you.

6 months of waiting to ask the most important question of his life.

Because tomorrow, exactly 6 months from the day he had met you, Javier Peña was going to ask you to marry him.

And he was a fucking nervous wreck.

It had killed Javi to wait this long. By conventional standards, 6 months wasn’t that long to know someone before you asked them to spend the rest of their life with you, but in all honesty, Javi would have proposed to you 3 months ago after he first got his mom’s ring from his dad. He had never been so sure of anything in his entire life- he wanted to spend forever with you. And now, after what felt like years of waiting, making sure that everything had fallen in place to give you the best proposal he could possibly imagine, the day was almost here.

Javi wanted everything to be perfect. He needed it to be. You were the most perfect person he had ever met, and to him, you deserved everything, and then some. He wasn’t nervous you were going to say no, or that he was second guessing his decision, Javi was a mess because there was nothing more he wanted than to give you a day you would never forget.

It was also going to now be a day Chucho Peña never forgot either. After everything had settled into place for Javi to finally start finalizing his plans, his poor dad had now become much more involved in planning a proposal than he ever thought he’d have to be. At this point, he was truly trying his best to not find it humorous how worked up his son had been over it, knowing that there was no way in the world you were going to be anything short of amazed, let alone say no.

“And you’re sure that you’ve got the-”

“Javier. This is probably the 14th time you have gone over the plan with me. Yes. I am sure I have everything you need. I have both lists you insisted I take, everyone knows where to be and what to do to help. Take a deep breath, hijo.” Chucho chuckled, taking a sip of his beer as he and Javi sat on the back porch of the Peña ranch, watching the sky slowly fade from bright yellows and pinks to faded blues as the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Okay. Sorry. I’m uh- Fuck, Pops, I’m nervous as hell.” Javi swallowed, running his thumb along the condensation of his can, anxiously drawing little circles in the water droplets.

“Really? I can’t tell.” Chucho joked, smirking to himself as he glanced over at his son, bouncing his leg against the chair he was sitting on. “Javier, what is there to be nervous about? It’s not like she’s going to say no.” Javi looked up at his Dad, the worn smile of his wrinkled face bringing him some relief from the nervous state he was in.

“No, I know. I just- I just want it to be perfect. I want it to be perfect for her. I’ve been thinking about this for so long and now it’s finally fucking here. She deserves everything, Pops. I love her so much.” Chucho reached over, patting his hand against Javi’s shoulder, gently squeezing his fingertips against the soft fabric of his flannel shirt.

“Javier, it will be perfect because you love her, and she loves you.” Chucho paused for a moment, quietly laughing to himself as he looked over at Javi. “Have I ever told you the story of how I proposed to your mamá?” A mischievous grin grew across Chucho’s face as Javi nodded, taking another swig of his drink.

“Yeah, you did it at the lake, right?”

“Yes. But that is the short version of the story, Mijo. I was so nervous when I proposed to your mother, that as we were walking up to the lake so I could get down on one knee and ask her to marry me, I tripped over my own feet and fell right to the ground, and the ring came out of my pocket. I didn’t put it in a box, because I was worried she would see, and so she had to help me find her engagement ring in the grass because I couldn’t find it. Until the day she died, she never let me live it down. But it is still one of my favorite memories of the two of us. It was still perfect. Javier, that girl would marry you if you got down on one knee and asked her in your living room. I have no doubt in my mind that tomorrow will be a day that she will never forget.”

“Fuck, guess I better add tripping over myself to the list of things I need to worry about, thanks, Dad.” The pair laughed, shaking their heads as Chucho gave Javi one last pat on the shoulder before he placed his hands on his knees, letting out a heavy grunt as he pushed himself up out of his chair.

“Cabrón (asshole). Now go, you should be spending time with your future esposa (wife) instead of your old man the night before your engagement. I promise, I have everything taken care of.” Javi followed his dad’s suit, setting down his beer before standing up, reaching out to wrap his arms around Chucho in a tight embrace.

“Thanks, Pops. For everything. Te amo.”

“Of course, mijo. Te amo mucho. I am so happy for you, Javier. She is such a wonderful woman. I am so glad she is going to be a part of our family. I know that your mamá is smiling down on you- She would have loved her so much, Javier. I love her, too. And now, I’m finally one step closer to mis nietos (my grandchildren).” Chucho playfully nudged Javi as he rolled his eyes, giving his son one last embrace as Javi headed out to his truck. As he turned over the ignition, Javi smiled to himself as he turned up the volume of the Queen’s Greatest Hits album you had picked out from your last drive.

“Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had. Been with you such a long time, You're my sunshine, and I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you. Oh, you're my best friend.”

Javi couldn’t help but let a stupidly wide grin spread across his cheeks as he listened to the lyrics of the track that had begun playing over the quiet crunch of the gravel under his truck tires as he backed out of the driveway to drive home. Because tomorrow? Tomorrow, Javier Peña was going to ask his best friend in the whole world, the woman he loved more than life itself, you, to be his wife.

Even though it was barely long enough for you to consider it to be a school “break”, you were glad to have today off to prep for your first Laredo Thanksgiving tomorrow. This would be the first time you would ever spend the holiday away from your childhood home, where your family had hosted every Thanksgiving for as long as you could remember. As much as you would have loved to fly back to go see everyone, plane tickets for the long weekend had been ridiculously expensive, and with just going to visit them a month ago for your cousin’s wedding, and future plans to go back to Chicago over Christmas break, your parents had been insistent on the fact that it was okay that you weren’t going to be able to make it home for Thanksgiving. While of course, you had been heartbroken you would have to miss seeing your family, from the moment Chucho found out you were Texas bound for the holiday, he was quick to make sure you felt nothing short of absolutely included in celebrating with the Peñas, even if it was just you, Javi and Chucho.

Javi still had to work on your day off, so you had spent your free time catching up on chores around the house, taking a well deserved nap and now, you were working on the apple pie you insisted to Chucho bring for the celebration tomorrow, as much as he had tried to convince you that you didn’t need to bring anything.

Somewhere along the lines of your childhood, it had become a Wednesday before Thanksgiving tradition that your family would watch The Wizard of Oz with your siblings before going to bed (although now as an adult, you had a feeling your parents put it on for you and your brothers so they could get the house ready without the four of you doing any more damage), so it only felt right that you put in on to watch as you waited for your pies to cook in the oven and Javi to get home. You shuffled through your VHS collection under the TV, rummaging around until you pulled out the worn tape, pushing it into the VHS player. After the movie had begun to play, you turned back around, letting out a defeated sigh at the current state of your kitchen.

As much as you loved baking, it always seemed to feel like a bomb had gone off by the time you were done as you looked around to see bowls, cutting boards and rolling pins in disarray on your counters. You grimaced to yourself looking around at the mess you had made, rolling up the sleeves of Javi’s oversized Texas A&M sweatshirt you had thrown on after you had woken up from your nap. With the way you had set up your apartment when you moved in, you were able to get a good view of your TV from the kitchen, cranking up the volume on your remote so you could listen and quote along to the movie as you worked on trying your best to clean up before Javi came home to your baking tornado.

At this point, you had seen the Wizard of Oz enough to quote it from front to back, especially as you and your brothers very early on in life had easily determined who got to be each part when you watched together. By default, because you were the only girl, your brothers told you that you had to be Dorthy, which you didn’t mind because you got the main part and to have Todo (Although your favorite family dog, Otis, an overweight yellow lab, wasn’t very pleased about having to be a part of you and your brothers yearly production). Charlie was always the Tin Man, being the oldest and most empathetic out of the rest of your brothers, David was Courage the Cowardly Lion, claiming lions were cool animals and that he was the bravest of your siblings, much to your disagreement, leaving Patrick as the Scarecrow, you and your brothers giving him the title of the smartest idiot you’d ever meet. After finishing washing the dishes, you had moved on to wiping down the counters, pausing and smiling to yourself as you heard the start to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” playing from the TV. You couldn’t help yourself as you began to sing along, swaying back and forth as you lazily wiped up your mess. You were so caught up in singing and dancing to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Javi open the door behind you.

Javi had quickly come to find out after moving in with you that not only coming home to you, but coming home to find you singing along to whatever CD you had playing as you meandered through the apartment, completely oblivious to his presence, was one his favorite things. There were times he could hear your voice as he went to unlock the door, making sure to open it extra quietly so he could stand in the doorway for a few moments, taking in the warmth and joy that radiated from you as you were lost in your own world. He soaked in every moment, watching every sway of your hip and shake of your head until you realized that he was home, making him just as happy for the big hug and kiss he got from you and your excited giggles as you greeted him.

He couldn’t quite make out what you had been signing as he carefully turned his key in the lock, gently closing the door behind him, grinning at the image of you dressed head to toe in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, messy bun plopped on your head as you bent over the counter, resting your elbow on the hard surface with your head propped up on your chin.

“Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, why then oh why can’t I? If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can’t I?”

Quietly setting down his bag and keys, Javi snuck his way over to the kitchen loud enough for you not be completely startled by his presence, as the song came to an end, making you turn your head over your shoulder to see Javi coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from the back he pressed his chest into your back, making you giggle as he planted quick, soft kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder.

“I could listen to you sing all day, Hermosa.” Javi rasped into your ear, playfully shaking you in his grasp. “Wizard of Oz?” He asked, gesturing towards the TV as the movie continued in the background.

“Really? You want me to sing Days of the Week for you? I didn’t get to sing it today since there was no school, I really need to get my fix.” You retorted, giving Javi a little nudge as he rolled his eyes.

“Please for the love of God, no.” The both of you laughed as you looked back at the TV, watching Todo escape from the back of Mrs. Gulch’s bike basket.

“My brothers and I would always watch it the night before Thanksgiving. Not really sure how the tradition started, but figured I’d throw it on. I can turn it off if you don’t wanna watch or put on something else.” You replied, reaching over for the remote.

“No, keep it on, Osita.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, arms still resting along your hips as he held you. “I can’t fuckin’ tell you the last time I’ve seen this movie. I’m gonna be real honest with you, I never really watched it that much as a kid because the flying monkeys scared the shit outta me.”

“Seriously? They’re not even that scary. But we can fast forward through the monkey parts, if you need to, ya big bab-HEY!” You shrieked as Javi suddenly turned you around in his grasp so you were chest to chest before scooping you up and plopping you down so you were sitting on the counter. He placed his hands outside your hips, engulfing your body and making you squirm and laugh as he peppered ticklish kisses across your neck and face, trying your best to swat back at him. “Javi stop! You know that tickles!” You squealed, finally grabbing his arms, wrestling with him until he had given up, pressing a sweet, tender kiss on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Who’s the big baby now?” He smirked, running his hands along your thighs as your legs dangled over the edge of the counter.

“Still you, because I’m not irrationally afraid of poorly made monkey costumes.” You pointed your finger at him, prodding at his chest.

“They’re fucking terrifying, Osita. You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Oh really? You still gonna tell me I’m the worst when I take these apple pies out of the oven?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest as you nodded over to the stove.

“Fuck, I knew it smelled good in here. Does that mean I get to-”

“Don’t you dare even think about trying to sneak a piece of these pies before tomorrow, Javier Jesús Peña! These are for Thanksgiving, and even though there’s only the 3 of us, I still made two because I know if I put a pie down in front of you, you could probably eat the whole thing by yourself, and I am not making another pie after the disaster in this tiny kitchen that I just cleaned up.” You raised an eyebrow at Javi, trying to give him your best stern face, the two of you snickering at each other as you tried to scold him.

“Fine, fine. No pies.” Javi laughed, holding up his hands in defense. “Not even just a little-”

“Javi! No!” You shook your head, slapping his arm as he looked back over at the oven before looking back at you, a sly smirk spreading across his face. Grabbing at the meat of your thighs, he slotted himself in the empty space of your legs, spread open as you sat on the counter. His hands quickly slid up towards your waist, creeping under the hem of his sweatshirt you were wearing as he caged his chest against yours, nipping at your neck, his words hot and heavy on your skin. “Javi….” You moaned, tipping your head back as his kisses traveled down to your collarbone and hands tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants. “Javi, I’m gonna burn these pies, I don’t wanna have to make them again or explain to your dad that they’re burnt to a crisp because his son cannot keep his hands off me for more than 30 seconds. They only need to be in the oven for like-”

“10 more minutes?” Javi quickly cut you off, now beginning to slide your sweatpants down your thighs, firmly pressing his hands along the soft flesh of your now bare legs. “Oh, don’t worry, I saw the timer, Hermosa. Baby, you know I can take care of you in 10 minutes, now I just wanna see how many times I can get you off before the pies are done.”

“Seriously? You’re timing yourself? Are we placing bets on this too, while we’re at it? You are absolutely ridiculous, Javi, I swear.” You tried your best to roll your eyes, but as his hands crept down, palming the already wet patch that had been growing in your underwear, it was hard to pretend you were even annoyed in the slightest. Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, shuffling them down your legs as he placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing them open to reveal the slick of your arousal that had already been pooling between them. Gently, he ran his fingers through your folds, barley grazing over your clit before dropping to his knees, coming face to face with your dripping heat.

“3.” He said, carefully kissing along the inside of your legs, making his way closer and closer to your entrance.

“3 what?” You replied, trying your best to stay focused on anything Javi was saying as his nose bumped against your throbbing bundle of nerves, practically feeling his smirk against your pussy as he darted his eyes up at you.

“3 times. I bet I can make you cum 3 times before the timer goes off.”

“You’re a fucking menace, Javier Peña, you know that right?” You sighed, gripping your hands against the edge of the counter, feeling your cunt clench, desperate for him to ease the ache between your legs.

“Only for you, Hermosa. Solo para ti (Only for you).” Javi looked up at you, shooting you a quick wink before licking a broad stroke against your clit, making you gasp and your jaw go slack as you moaned breathlessly. That was all it took before he dove in, a man on a mission to make you cum as many times as he could in the few minutes he had. Your legs draped over his broad shoulders, his fingertips squeezing into the flesh of your hips as his pace became rapid and intense, licking and sucking at your clit in a way that had you writing on the counter, tugging at the dark curls of his hair for any sort of relief.

“Javi, holy shit baby, oh fuck.” You whined, bucking your hips towards his face and arching your back as he circled around your bundle of nerves, your moans and whimpers only making him press his tongue firmer against you. Even after all this time, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe how fast Javi could make you cum. He had memorized every twitch, every tug of his hair, every breathy whisper to know what made you fall apart under his touch, loving every second of watching you come undone for him. You could feel the tingling beginning to creep up your legs and into your stomach as Javi sucked at your clit, pulling his head closer to your soaking core, desperate for more. “Please don’t stop, Javi. Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, I- ahhhhhhhhh.” That was all it took before you could feel the waves of pleasure rushing through your body, your pussy throbbing as your orgasm flooded over you, your body trembling at Javi’s relentless pace as he still worked at you as you came.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet, hermosa. Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.” Javi smirked, his mustache covered in your slick as he peeked over at the timer counting down on the stove. “7 minutes? Plenty of fucking time, Osita. You want my fingers, pretty girl?” He mewled, satisfied as he stared at the soaking wet mess between your legs, knowing you were still needy for more.

“Mhmmmmhhh. Please, Javi, please.” You whimpered, your hand still buried deep in the brown locks of his hair, pleading for relief as your cunt clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely.” He cooed, slowly pushing his two fingers into your already drenched core, making you gasp at the thickness now filling you, bumping against the soft spongy spot that made your toes curl and your jaw go slack. Already so worked up from just moments ago, as soon as Javi’s mouth was back on your throbbing clit, you could feel yourself beginning to clench around Javi’s hand, arousal pooling in your belly. His fingers slid easily in and out of your heat, his hand and mouth working at a persistent pace as he felt you squirm under him, knowing how close you were again.

Your second orgasm hit you even harder than your first, moaning and panting incoherently as you tensed around the thickness of Javi’s digits, soaking his hand as he feverishly lapped up your slick, only removing his mouth after he knew you had come down from your second high to smirk up at you with a devilishly smug grin. He ran his free hand along your leg, grasping at your thigh as his other hand still slowly pulsed inside you, his fingers curling ever so slightly to the spot he knew would get him to his goal. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t even blame him for self-satisfied smile- Javi knew just as well as you that he knew how to work you in all the right ways to get you exactly where he wanted you. “Gimme one more just like this, Osita. C’mon, sweet girl. Wanna watch that pretty face when you cum. ” You nodded, looking down at the shine of your arousal covering his smirk, knowing that at this point, you were so worked up and overstimulated that just the fingers already inside of you really were all you needed to give him your last orgasm.

Javi’s fingers had already sunk so deep into your cunt, already so overly sensitive to every push and pull of his hand, that your grasp on the counter had become so tight, you could feel your knuckles turning white. You cried out his name as it fell from your lips, babbling incoherently as the third rush of pleasure crashed over you, gushing onto Javi’s hand as awed at your blissed out state.

“That’s it, baby. Let it all go, hermosa. Fuck, you look so good like this. Can’t believe you’re all fuckin’ mine. God, you’re so perfect.” Javi carefully pulsed his fingers a few more times as he felt you clench around him, making you hiss as he withdrew his hand now soaked in your slick. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he sucked his fingers clean before rising up off his knees, taking his time to plant soft kisses along your body before grabbing your face, pressing his lips against yours the taste of you still tangy on his tongue. It wasn’t long until the beep of the oven timer was ringing through your kitchen, making Javi’s smug smirk only grow wider. “See? Told you I could do it 3 times before the pies were done.”

“Jesus Christ…” You swatted at him, trying to catch your breath, the two of you laughing and shaking your heads as he helped you slide down off the counter before pulling your sweatpants back up over your legs, walking over towards the oven. “If you think this was gonna change my mind about you getting a piece tonight, it’s not.” You raised an eyebrow at him, throwing on an oven mitt before reaching in to pull out the pies, sweet and steaming as they rested on the counter.

“Not even just a-”

You turned around, trying your best to give him your most stern look without bursting into giggles, making Javi hold his hands up in defense, stopping mid-sentence. “You can have all the pie you want tomorrow, you hungry, horny menace.” You laughed, taking off your oven mitt and pointing it at him.

Tomorrow.

He couldn’t help but smile knowing that in less than 24 hours, tomorrow meant a lot more than just getting to eat the apple pies that had just come out of the oven.

Javi felt like a little boy on Christmas morning. Sleep was an incredibly inaccurate way to describe the anticipated tossing and turning he had done all night, his heart racing excitedly as he counted down the moments until he finally got down on one knee, and asked you to be his wife. It didn’t take much to get Javi out of bed bright and early, his adrenaline pumping through his veins as he planted a soft kiss on the tangled and sleepy waves of your hair as you laid face down, snoring into your pillow, before sneaking out of your room into the kitchen.

As you shifted over in bed, reaching for Javi to pull him closer to you in your half asleep state, you scrunched your face, blinking as you looked over to find an empty space beside you, the sheets of Javi’s of the mattress left in a tangled pile in his place. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you looked up to see the sunrise creeping through the cracks of your curtains, painting your bedroom walls in golden rays and silhouettes, blowing in the soft breeze from your cracked window. Reaching your arms over your head and letting out a big yawn, you crawled out of bed, shuffling across the carpet of your bedroom to your dresser to pull out another one of Javi’s sweatshirts before opening your door to hear the sounds of sizzling and popping coming from the kitchen. Creeping down the hallway, you peeked your head around the corner to see Javi and his messy, sleepy curls cooking away, working on what seemed to be like bacon and eggs, sitting next to an already completed giant pile of pancakes.

“Are we having breakfast for 12 this morning?” You giggled, your voice still soft and sleepy as you smiled at Javi, walking into the kitchen and hugging him from behind, snaking your arms around his waist, resting your body against his broad back. “You didn’t have to do all this, Jav. I didn’t know you were getting up to make breakfast this morning, I could have gotten up and helped.”

Javi set down his spatula, turning to face you, gently cupping your jaw as placed a soft kiss on your lips and forehead, squeezing you in a tight hug. “Good morning to you too, Hermosa. I know you didn’t. I wanted to surprise you and bring you breakfast in bed, but I guess I should have known better that you would be up before then.” He chuckled as you hoisted yourself up onto the counter, sitting next to the stack of pancakes you now noticed were separated by both blueberries and chocolate chips. He reached beside him, handing you the mug of coffee he had poured, gladly taking a generous sip before watching him finish up the rest of the scrambled eggs on the stove.

“Surprise Thanksgiving breakfast?” You laughed, tilting your head in confusion as you looked over at Javi before reaching down to grab a chocolate chip pancake, taking a bite and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Javi tried his best to keep calm and nonchalant, giving a little shrug as he scraped the eggs off the pan onto one of the empty plates, handing it over to you. “It’s uh- it’s your first Thanksgiving away from home, I don’t know- I know you love breakfast, I just wanted to make it special for you, I guess.”

“Well-” You paused, taking a big fork full of eggs, nodding your head as you chewed, “Oh my god these are good-” finally swallowing before finishing the rest of your thought, “You’re very sweet, and I am very, very thankful for you, and your delicious breakfast.” You grinned, leaning over to give Javi a kiss on the cheek on his scratchy, morning stubble as he dropped the rest of the eggs on to his plate, setting it to the side as he hooked his arms under your thighs, making you squeal as you draped his arms around your neck and locked your legs around the small of your back as he spun you around, peppering ticklish kisses against your soft skin.

“I’m so thankful for you too, Osita. Fuck, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that? I love you so goddamn much.” His sweet, brown eyes locked with yours as your hands ran through the soft curls of his hair before tracing along his cheek, your thumb rubbing soft circles along his jaw.

“I love you too, Jav. Someone’s feeling sappy this morning.” You prodded, giving him one last quick peck before unwrapping your legs and setting your feet back on the ground, grabbing your plate and heading over to the couch to turn on the TV. Javi looked at the ground sheepishly, feeling the heat creep through his flushed face.

You didn’t even know the fucking half of it.

Javi had spent the rest of the morning trying his best to stay as even keeled as possible, but with how fast his heart had been beating since the moment he had gotten out of bed, he was surprised you hadn’t asked if he was having a heart attack as you pressed your head against his chest, cuddling up together on the couch to watch the rest of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade after finishing your huge breakfast.

“Awh yes!” You grasped at Javi’s shirt, shaking the fist fulls of fabric in excitement as you stared at Santa’s sleigh now making its way across the TV screen. “Christmas time is finally here!” Javi shook his head, laughing to himself at the number of times you had already broughten up how excited you were for Christmas since the day November had started. “Are you gonna hate me if I start decorating and listening to Christmas music tomorrow?” You grimaced, twisting your head to look up at Javi.

“Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding, huh? You really wanna start setting out Christmas shit tomorrow?”

“I will hold off until December 1st if I absolutely have to, but just know, each day that passes until then will kill me slowly.”

“And I’m the ridiculous one?”

“Pendejo.” You grumbled, giving him a nudge.

“You love me. That’s fine baby, I’m honestly impressed you held out this long.”

“Honestly, it’s only because I actually really do also like Thanksgiving, it deserves it's time to shine, too. Oh, speaking of which, I wanna call my family just to say hi really quick before we start getting ready to leave, is that okay?” You asked, pushing yourself up off the couch.

“Uh, yeah- yeah of course that’s fine, Hermosa.” He replied, seeming surprisingly flustered by your question. You obviously hadn’t seemed to notice, walking over to grab your phone off the receiver before punching in your house phone number, holding it up to your ear as the dial tone rang repeatedly. A confused look spread across your face as the ringing ended in your mom’s familiar voicemail, giving Javi a puzzled shrug as you left your message.

“Hi everyone, it’s me! Just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving! I miss you guys! If you try and call and I don’t answer, we’re over at Javi’s dad’s- Javi says hi too. Okay, well if I don’t talk to you later, then tell David not to eat too much gravy so he doesn’t shit his pants again. Love you!” You pressed the red button, ending your call as you set the phone back down. “That’s so weird that no one answered, they should all be home right now.”

“I’m sure they’re fine, baby. They’re probably just busy. I’m sure you’ll talk to them later.” He smiled, giving your outstretched hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should probably start getting ready, when did your dad want us over again?”

“He said to take our time, he’ll have food ready whenever we get over there.”

“Well I feel bad that he’s there waiting all by himself. I’m good to hop in the shower if you are?” You suggested, pulling him up to stand from the couch.

“Don’t worry about me for the shower, I’ll clean up the rest of breakfast and you can start getting ready, okay?” Javi rubbed his hand along your arm, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“Jav, you made me breakfast, the least I can do is help clean-”

“Osita. I know you’d help me clean up. I want to, okay? I wanted to get up and make breakfast for you, I’m not gonna let you clean up my mess.”

“Fine, Mr. Stubborn. Thank you. You sure I can’t-”

“Go get your ass in the shower, hermosa.” Javi gestured towards the bathroom, giving your butt a quick smack before heading down the hallway into the bathroom.

In all honesty, cleaning the dishes was the last thing Javi had on his mind as he was finally able to get you into the bathroom. Once he heard the water on and the shower curtain open, he snuck his way into the bedroom, digging through his sock drawer to pull out the giant sock ball with your ring buried inside it. Pulling the velvet case out of the fabric, Javi carefully opened the box, smiling at the glimmer of the piece of shiny jewelry, picturing how perfect it would look finally wrapped around your finger. He slipped the case into one of the inside pockets of his jacket, squeezing his hand around the fabric, as if to make sure this was actually happening. Quietly, he grabbed his cell phone from his nightstand, dialing up Chucho, anxiously chewing at the inside of his lip as he waited for his dad to answer.

“Hola, hijo.” Chucho answered, his voice filled with excitement and glee.

“Hey, Pops. She just started getting ready so I’m guessing we’ll be there in like, an hour and a half?” His dad could practically hear Javi’s nerves and anxiety now beginning to build as the realization that he was hours away from proposing was finally starting to hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Perfect. Everything and everyone will be ready, don’t worry, Mijo.” Chucho chuckled, trying to ease his son’s tension.

“Okay.” Javi’s response was short and unassuring as he ran his free hand through his dark curls before resting his hand on his hip.

“Javier. Tiene planeada un día mas perfecto para ella. Así que respiremos profundamente, todo está yendo bien. A ella le encantaría. Casi tanto como elle te ama.” (Javier, you have planned the most perfect day for her. Take a deep breath, it will all be okay. She will love it. Almost as much as she loves you). Javi took a long inhale, his dad 's words comforting him as his exhale followed.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Claro, hijo (Of course, son). We will see you and your futura esposa (future wife) soon.”

“Te veré pronto. (I’ll see you soon) Bye.”

Hearing the water from your shower turn off, Javi rushed back into the kitchen, speed washing every dish and pan to make sure it looked like he had made good on his promise to clean up after himself while you were getting ready in the bathroom. With the dishwasher full and running, Javi made his way down the hall to see you standing in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped in your towel, and starting to put on your makeup. He couldn’t help but gawk at you- Javi watching you get ready had become a staple in your relationship very early on, the two of you talking as Javi rested his hip on the counter, or sat on the lid of the toilet seat, smiling to himself, in awe of every beautiful part of you. But there was something about the way that Javi was staring at you right now as you peeked your head out of the bathroom that made your heart flutter. It wasn’t the I’d fuck you right now against the bathroom counter look that had become just as much of a staple as Javi watching you get ready, it wasn’t even the sweet, flirty look he’d give you when he just wanted to let you know how cute you were. The way Javi looked at you as you stood there in your fluffy towel, makeup half done and hair wet and tangled from the shower was a look that put butterflies in your stomach. He looked at you like you were the only person in the world. That he didn’t care if anyone else existed beside you. That you were the only person he ever wanted to look at like this.

“What’s that look for?” You blushed, setting down your mascara to stare back at him.

“You’re just- Fuck. You’re so beautiful, Osita. Everything about you. I’m so lucky.” Javi’s words were soft and gentle, his sweet brown eyes making you melt as they soaked in every inch of you.

“Does Thanksgiving always make you this sappy?” You giggled, biting down on your lip before turning back to the mirror. “Thanks, Jav. I hope you know I feel equally as lucky. Now go get your cute butt in the shower so we don’t have to make your dad wait any longer. I need to find the loosest fitting outfit I have so I can make room for when I eat my bodyweight in mashed potatoes.”

By the time Javi was finished getting ready, you were already out in the kitchen wrapping up the pies you had made last night to safely get to Chucho’s without any sneaky tampering from Javi.

“Well, you look handsome.” You smirked, watching Javi walk down the hallway in one of his dark washed pairs of tight jeans, paired with a tan button up and black jacket overtop of it. Javi’s jaw just about dropped as he watched you make your way out from around the counter, showing off the cute, burnt orange dress you had put on over your cream colored turtleneck.

“Me? Jesus Christ, look at you, Osita.” You giggled as you pressed up on your tiptoes, giving him a quick kiss as you draped your arms over his neck.

“Oh shhhh. Thank you, Jav. You ready to leave?” You smiled up at him, Javi praying you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was racing as he caged his chest against yours, thinking about the last drive he was ever about to make with you before you went from girlfriend to fiancé.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Can I trust you to carry the other pie on the way down to the car without eating any of it?” You laughed, rolling your eyes as you reached over the counter to hand him the tin foil covered dessert.

“Yes, you can trust me. I think I left my phone in the bedroom, let me just go grab it really quick and then we can go, okay?” You nodded at him as he quickly made his way back to your room, cell phone already tucked away in his pants when he put on his jeans 15 minutes ago. He looked over his shoulder to check and make sure you hadn’t followed behind, pulling out the ring box one last time, taking a deep breath before giving it a little squeeze and stashing it back in his pocket.

It was really fucking happening.

As the two of you began your drive to what you assumed was Chucho’s, Javi turned up the volume of the CD he had picked out to play in the car, “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac now bumping through the speakers. He reached over the center console, intertwining your fingers with his as he grabbed your hand, smiling over at you as the melodic intro began. “This song always makes me think of the first night I ever stayed over at your apartment. All you had to eat was fuckin’ mac and cheese.”

“Oh my God, I remember that. I was so embarrassed because I had nothing else to eat and I didn’t want you to think I was a crazy person who only ate like a 10 year old. God, that feels like forever ago.” Running your free hand over your face, the two of you laughed over the melodic soundtrack playing in the background, the memory of that night making your heart grow warm.

“I guess. Honestly, it still almost feels like it was yesterday. I just remember how fucking nervous I was the whole goddamn night.”

“With how many times we fucked that night, you really didn’t seem nervous.” You giggled, rubbing your thumb over the rough skin of his hand interlaced with yours.

“I was. I was so nervous I was gonna fuck something up, because I knew I was already so fucking in love with you, and it scared the shit out of me. No one else has ever made me feel like you do. I knew from that day on I never wanted to live without you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I felt the exact same. We’ve come a long way since then, huh?” The two of you smiled at each other as you leaned your head over to rest on Javi’s shoulder, Javi pressing a tender kiss in your hair, the sweet and familiar smell of your shampoo flooding him with comfort, easing his nerves just a touch as changed course from his usual route to the ranch, making you perk back up in confusion.

“Since when do we go this way to your dad’s house? We’ve never gone this way before.” You questioned, a puzzled look spreading across your face.

“I know. Just trust me, okay?” He grinned softly, giving you a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

“Okay?” You replied wearily, giving Javi a suspicious look. “What the hell are you up to?”

“Osita. Just trust me.”

“Fine, I should know better than to ask questions at this point, I know you’re not gonna tell me anything. Do I get a hint?”

“No, you dork.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grumbled, resting your head back against Javi as he drove the two of you down an unfamiliar path, the sounds of Fleetwood Mac filling the comfortable silence between you.

It wasn’t long until the road you were on started to become vaguely familiar, peeking out the window of the truck to try and piece together why your surroundings felt so recognizable. It wasn’t until you saw the white “For Sale” sign, now covered with “SOLD” in bright, red letters, peeking out of the tree lined driveway that you began to put two and two together.

“Wait… Isn’t this the place that we went to go see for Steve’s friend a couple weeks ago?” You asked, looking back at Javi as he slowed the speed of the truck, beginning to turn into the driveway.

“Mmmhhmm.” Javi nodded, his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

“It- It looks like he must have bought it, so why are we back here? Are you sure he’s fine with us just like, showing up here?” You were absolutely stumped as to why you were back at the plot of land you had gone to check out for Steve’s friend after his Halloween party until you rounded the corner along the “For Sale” sign.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be okay with it.” Javi smirked, gazing over at you.

Then all of a sudden, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

The conversation you had overheard between Javi and Steve at the Halloween party.

The reason why he had asked you to come look at this place for Steve’s buddy.

Why “SOLD” was plastered over the for sale sign.

You could physically feel your jaw drop, hanging open so wide, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had dropped through the floor of Javi’s truck. Your eyes grew as you looked over at Javi, your head darting back between him and the trees lining the driveway, practically frozen in shock.

“Javi…” You whispered, your breath shaky and trembling from the butterflies building in your stomach. His silence had never felt more comforting, simply smiling back at you before putting the truck into park, hopping out to make his way to the driver’s side, opening the door for you. You quickly wiped your palms against your dress, feeling how sweaty they had become from the nerves building inside you before sliding out of your seat, walking hand in hand with Javi the last few feet down the driveway before the trees opened to the open, grassy field hidden behind it, just as charming and beautiful as you remembered it.

You had been so focused on the view in front of you, you hadn’t even noticed Javi tugging your hand over towards the old oak tree on the side of the property, wrapped in twinkling string lights and pictures of the two of you. Under the tree, a big plaid blanket laid spread across the grass, covered in piles of cute pillows and surrounded by a few candles and vases of beautiful orange and red flowers resting on the ground. You felt your heart race, knots of anticipation building in your stomach as you quickly began to realize the “SOLD” sign wasn’t the only thing Javi was trying to surprise you with.

Holy fuck, he was going to propose to you, too.

You used every last brain cell in you to try and form anything close to a coherent sentence, but the best you could get out as the two of you reached the blanket under the towering tree was a jumbled mess of tangled words, spilling from your mouth. “Javi- What, are- Baby, is this- Javi, I, I- Holy shit.” Your hands trembled as you reached out for one of the pictures hung around the base of the tree- One Chucho must have taken one of the days the two of you were out on the ranch, Javi carrying you on his back as the two of you laughed at each other with stupid grins on your face. You could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest, tears already beginning to well behind your eyes as you looked up at Javi.

“That one’s always been one of my favorites. You look so happy, Osita.” He whispered, rubbing his hand along your back as the two of you stared at the photo, Javi pressing a soft kiss against your head, letting out a shaky exhale as he pulled away. Grabbing your hand, he turned towards you, the Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to compose himself before he spoke again. “All I ever want is for you to be happy, baby.”

You let out an audible gasp, covering your trembling hands over your mouth as you watched Javi lower himself down onto one knee, tears welling behind those sweet brown eyes as he smiled up at you with that familiar gaze you realized you would now never have to live without.

“Osita. Baby, you make me the happiest man in the world. I don’t think I ever truly understood what it felt like to be this happy until I met you. I couldn’t be more thankful that your clumsy ass bumped into me all those months ago, because there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since I’ve met you that my life hasn’t been better, because you’re in it. You’re everything I never knew I needed, and everything I never thought I deserved. You are the most beautiful, kind, and loving woman I’ve ever met. You’re also the most stubborn, headstrong, independent woman I have ever met, and I love every perfect part of you that makes you the person I feel head over heels in love with. From the moment I met you, I couldn’t imagine how I could spend the rest of my life without you. I wanna spend forever with you, Osita. I wanna give you the world. I wanna start our lives together here. I wanna build you a house, I wanna fill it with as many kids as you want, I wanna spend the rest of my life here with you, because if I have that, that’s all I’ll ever need. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

Javi’s hands shook as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the little velvet box that had been hidden inside, carefully opening the case to reveal the beautiful, oval cut diamond, nestled between little clusters of smaller stones, resting on top of a dainty and simple gold band. You could feel the tears streaming down your grinning cheeks, still trying to comprehend what was happening as Javi held the ring up towards you.

“Osita, I love you so much. Te amo más que a mi vida (I love you more than life itself). Baby, will you marry me?”

Javi could barely finish the question before you were jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, sobbing into his shoulder as the two of you fell onto the blanket, bodies tangled in each other as you laid on top of him.

“Of course. Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I love you so much.”

You laughed through your tears, grabbing his face, your lips meeting in an electric moment that made everything else around you stand still. You could feel each other’s grins against your parted mouths, laying back down on top of Javi squeezing him as tightly as you could to try and ground yourself in the reality of what had just happened.

“I think I’m supposed to put the ring on your finger now, you dork.” He laughed, pushing you both to sit up as he grabbed the case that had landed next to him on the blanket, cautiously taking out the ring, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles of your outstretched hand as he slipped onto your finger, the both of you staring at it in awe.

“Javi… Baby, holy shit this is beautiful. How did you- When did you-”

“It was my mom’s.” He grinned, biting down on his lip as he watched the ring sparkle on your finger before looking back up at you, the tears now building in both your eyes again. “When uh- In the end, before she passed, she always told me if I ever found someone, I could have it. I kinda wrote it off because I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone, let alone find you. I know I never really asked you what you wanted or liked, but-”

“Javi. It’s perfect.” You cupped his cheeks, your face beaming with joy as you shook your head still in absolute shock. As if the ring on your finger wasn’t enough, you looked back out at the green grass swaying in the gentle breeze, reminded of the fact that not only did Javi want you to be his wife, but this man had just told you he was about to build you a fucking house. “You really bought this? We’re gonna build a house here? This is all ours?”

“It’s all ours, Hermosa. Whatever you want, baby, I’ll build it for you.” Javi's face lit up watching the excitement radiating from you, your eyes darting back between the ring on your finger and the beautiful plot of land in front of you, trying to take everything in.

“You’re being serious? Like actually? We’re really gonna build a house here?” You asked, still trying to process.

“Yes, seriously.” Javi nodded, smiling at you as you shook your head in disbelief, burying your head in your hands and squealing before shooting up, running over to the middle of the empty plot grass, spinning in a circle, imagining the possibilities of what was to come.

“So we can have a big kitchen? And huge windows so it’s always sunny inside? And a porch on the back deck that we can watch the sunset? And a-”

“Baby, we can have whatever you want.” Javi chuckled to himself as you stood there for a moment, taking it all in before running back over to him, once again, tackling him to the ground pressing frantic kisses against his lips.

“We can finally have a bedroom big enough for a king size bed? Where we can hang out all day? And watch the sunrise? And have plenty of space to fuck my husband?” You smirked, feeling Javi’s cock twitch against the denim of his jeans as you laid on top of him. Javi let out a low groan as you hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to palm at the bulge straining against his zipper.

“Say it again.” He rasped, planting hot, wet kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin.

“My husband. You’re gonna be my husband, Javier Peña.”

Husband.

Oh fuck, did that do something to do him hearing you say that out loud.

Grabbing you by the hips, he quickly flipped you over, your back resting on the blanket as he hovered over you, trailing kisses down every inch of your body before his palms pushed up the hem of your dress, grasping at the meat of your thighs. He cupped his hand against your core, already feeling the wetness that had begun to pool in your underwear, carefully hooking his fingers under the waistband before sliding it down your legs.

“Again, baby. Say it again.” He mewled, running his fingers between your folds, collecting your arousal as his thumb circled around your clit, making your breath shake as you spoke again.

“Husband. Fuck, Javi, I’m gonna be your wife.”

Now that, that one really did something to him.

“You’re gonna be my fucking wife.” Javi’s tongue darted between his parted lips as he sunk his two fingers deep inside you, making you moan beneath him. “I’m gonna be your fucking husband. I’m gonna take such good care of you, Osita. I’ll give you everything. Anything you want, Hermosa, I’ll give it to you.” His touch had you writing, bucking your hips against his hand as he thumbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers curved ever so slightly, pressing against the soft spongy spot that made your pussy throb even more intensely than it already was. Javi’s forehead rested against yours, your noses brushing against each other as your words escaped from the soft, smirking curve of your lips, thinking about Javi’s promise.

“Anything? You’re gonna give me a house, your last name…you gonna give me a baby, too? Make you a husband and a daddy?”

Holy shit, you were really trying to fucking kill him.

Just the thought of that alone was enough for Javi to let out an audible groan, biting down on his tongue and taking a deep breath to compose himself so that he didn’t bust right that second. “Jesus Christ…” he growled, quickly removing his fingers, already soaked with your juices, making you whimper at the rapid loss. Frantically, he undid his belt buckle, sliding his pants and boxers down his thighs to reveal his already hard cock, his tip red and leaking with precum. That was all it took before Javi was stroking himself, lining his tip up with your entrance and flushing his hips against yours, feeling his length bottom all the way out against your cervix, making you whine at his fullness inside you. You’d be lying if you said the idea alone hadn’t made you so wet and worked up, that even though Javi had barely spent any time working you open with his fingers, he still slid into your heat effortlessly.

“Fuckkkk meeee, Osita.” He grunted, already beginning to press into you at a rushed, sloppy pace. You had come to find out that while Javi had impressive stamina, there were times that the little things you said or did to him made him absolutely lose his mind. It would leave him so worked up and on edge, that his endurance flew out the window, barely standing a chance at lasting more than a few quick minutes buried inside you. Given your comment, the rate he was snapping his hips into yours, and that all too familiar lustful look in his eyes, you already knew he was a goner.

You grasped at fist fulls of his jacket, digging your fingers into the fabric as Javi punched deep into the spot that made your vision go white, feeling your cunt already beginning to clench around his cock as he rubbed his fingers frantically along your clit. “You want me to give you a baby, Osita? Shit- I’ll give you as many babies as you want. We’ll fill up every fucking room in this house. I’d fuck a baby into right now if I could. You’d like that, huh?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his strokes rapid and punishing as he punched against your g-spot, watching you whimper beneath him.

“Fuckkk, yes, Javi- ahhhh- Jesus, I want it so bad. I want everything with you, baby.”

“Fuck, Hermosa, I’m close- I can feel how close you are too, baby. So tight and wet. Give it to me, Osita. Want you to cum all over my cock before I fuck you full of me.” With a few more strokes, you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine as your orgasm ripped through you, euphoria flooding through your veins across your body. Your moans and cries as you tightened around Javi’s dick had him moments away from coming undone just as fast as you had, his rambling becoming just as fast and boundless as his last few pumps inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be such a good wife- oh shit- such a good mom. I can’t until we can have a family to raise here- I can’t believe-ahhhh- I can’t believe your mine forever. Can’t believe I get to marry you, fuck a baby into you, holy shit, fuck, fuck- ohhhhhhh-” With one final thrust, Javi buried himself deep in your hilt, milking himself of every last drop of his spend, slumping into you, your chests rising and falling in unison as you both came down from your blissed out highs before pulling out from the wet mess between you.

“Well fuck me…” You giggled, running your hand over your face, smirking back up at Javi.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Osita. I’d apologizing for fucking busting so quick, but goddamn, if you keep saying shit like that, I swear…” The two of you laughed, Javi picking up the hand covering your face, kissing the ring now wrapped around your finger before leaning down to meet your lips in a long, tender kiss.

“You liked that, huh?” You smirked up at him, biting down on your lip as he nipped at your ear, his voice low and raspy as his hot breath pressed against your skin.

“Baby, if you keep talking like that, I swear to God, I’m gonna find a way to beat your birth control and fuck a baby into you right this second.”

“I meannnnn, I wouldn’t be mad about it. You better stop saying shit before I run home and toss my birth control pills out the window, never to be seen again. No, no, this is bad, Jav! We aren’t even married yet, Jesus! We cannot be talking like this until we at least make that happen and we build this house. One step at a time.” You sighed, shaking your head and laughing to yourself as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear before swiping his thumb along your bottom lip.

“One step at a time.” He repeated, softly gazing into your eyes, his sweet chocolate brown stare making you melt beneath him. “I love you so fucking much, Osita.”

“Te amo hasta la luna y de regreso, Javier Peña.” (I love you to the moon and back). I still can’t believe you did all this for me. I would have been happy with anything, but a proposal and surprise house combination is pretty fuckin’ tough to beat. Thank you, Javi. For everything. I am the luckiest woman in the world. I honestly still can’t believe this, oh my God.”

“There’s still one more surprise.” Javi grinned, his comment making you sit up in shock.

“Javi. Seriously? How could there possibly be any more surprises? Did you get me a fucking unicorn too?”

“Last one, I promise.”

Javi grunted as he pushed himself up to stand, extending his arm down to you to help pull you towards him. You couldn't help but wrap your arms around him, squeezing your body against the warm familiar space of his, staring out into the blank canvas that would be yours and Javi’s home. The two of you stood there for a moment in silence, smiles stretched wide across your faces as you held each other in the crisp November breeze, feeling like the only two people in the world to exist. No one but you and him. You had Javier Peña forever, and you were never letting go.

As you had finally come to grips with the reality of what had just happened on the actual car ride over to the Peña ranch, you could feel your head spinning with questions as to how in the world Javi had managed to pull all of this off.

“Wait okay, so when did you get the ring? You hid it really well, I had no idea you even had it. Did you set all of this stuff up? When the hell did you go buy this beautiful piece of land we’re about to build a house on? How long have you been-”

“Jesus Hermosa, one at a time.” Javi chuckled, resting his hand on your thigh to try and slow your interrogation as he drove.

“Sorry, sorry. I still can’t believe you did all of this, I wanna know all the details now! Okay, the ring- I’ll start there. God, it’s so pretty.” You beamed, holding out your hand in front of you to stare at it.

“I got it from my dad after my birthday party. Believe me, I would have done this sooner, but all the stuff with buying the fucking land was a pain in my ass, and took way longer than I thought it was going to. I put the offer in right before we left for Chicago, and didn’t close on everything until like 2 weeks ago. ” Javi sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah Jav, I’m SO upset you didn’t get this beautiful piece of land to build our dream house on and propose to me a few weeks sooner, I’m calling it all off.” You joked, your voice oozing with sarcasm as Javi rolled his eyes at you.

“Pendejo.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked to marry me. When did you decide building a house was gonna be a part of this whole plan?” You asked, smirking over at Javi, giving him a little nudge across the center console.

“For a while now. I looked at a few houses after I got the ring, but nothing felt right. My dad built our house on the ranch when he and my mom got married, and after talking with him, it was the only thing that made sense. I want our house to be everything we want. Everything you want.” He smiled, tracing his thumb in soft circles along your leg.

“Javi, we could live in a cardboard box together and I would be happy. I don’t care as long as I’m with you. Although, I’m not mad about it.” The both of you laughed to yourselves, stupid grins on your faces. “So like, are you gonna build it? Not that I don’t trust your construction skills, but that seems like a lotta house for one man.”

“Jesus, no. My cousin Danny’s a contractor- I talked to him when I was thinking about doing all of this. He helped me find the place and already agreed to start building whenever we’re ready. I told him obviously we would help whenever we could, and my dad has already offered to help too- he’s about to be over there every day, because he’s convinced the sooner the house is built, the sooner he gets his grandkids.”

“I think he may be the most excited out of anyone.” You giggled, shaking your head. “So he obviously knows about all this? Did he help with setting everything up?”

“Yeah, he had some help too.” Javi smiled as the two of you pulled into the driveway of the Peña ranch, the sun slowly beginning to set behind the horizon, the golden rays spilling in through the windows of his truck as he shifted it into park. He quickly got out, hopping around to your side of the car to open your door, taking your hand and helping you down after planting a soft kiss on your lips.

The two of you walked hand in hand up to the house, giddy with excitement to finally talk with Chucho about everything Javi had surprised you with today, almost forgetting that the 3 of you still had Thanksgiving to celebrate on top of everything else. “Oh shit, the pies!” You exclaimed, getting ready to run back to the truck before Javi grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ll go get them in a minute, let’s go inside, okay?” He insisted, dragging you back towards the house.

“Javi, it’ll take like 2 seconds, I-”

“Ostia. Just go inside, okay?”

“Fine, fine!” You laughed, reaching your hand down to twist open the doorknob, looking up at Javi’s boyish grin. “I just don’t understand why-”

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, THEY’RE HERE! AHHHHHHH HONEY!”

You stood there for a moment, wondering who the hell was screeching at the top of their lungs, ambushing you in a hug that felt more like a death grip than anything else. It took a second before you processed the all too familiar voice and arms wrapped around your body, making your heart race and tears begin to fall down your face.

“Wait, wha- Wait Mom?! What are you-”

“Oh sweetheart, oh my God! BOYS! GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE! COME CONGRATULATE YOUR SISTER.” Your Mom shouted over your shoulder, still squeezing you in her arms, shaking you frantically. “JAVI, HONEY, AH WE ARE SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” Your mom shrieked, pulling Javi in for just as tight of a hug as the one you had just gotten a few seconds earlier before turning back to you, squeezing you again.

“Wait, everyone- Mom, what the fuck? What are you- wait, what are you all doing here?” Finally beginning to come to, you pulled away from your mom to see not only Chucho, but your dad, brothers, and nieces all smiling back at your awestruck face.

“Language honey, Jesus, just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you get to swear at your mom.” She swatted at you, rolling her eyes.

You took another step back as your eyes darted between Javi and your family, your jaw hanging open in absolute shock. “But when did you- how did- Wait, what is happening?” You ran your hands through your hair, head swiveling back and forth, looking for someone to explain how the hell your family had ended up here, at the Peña Ranch in Laredo, Texas.

Shuffling up behind your mom, your dad greeted you, pulling you in for a quick hug and little noogie on your arm before doing the same to Javi, standing between the two of you as he spoke. “Once this kid knew when he was gonna propose, he wanted to find a way for us to be there. He knew how much you didn’t wanna miss Thanksgiving, which I don’t fucking understand, I thought you were gettin’ a get outta jail free card from these idiots,” He gestured over at Charlie and David, shrugging in agreement before turning back to you, “Javi asked if we wanted to come down here for Thanksgiving so we could celebrate it and spend it with you. You found a good one, kiddo.”

“Congrats, asshat. If there’s hope for you, then there’s hope for us all, isn’t there?” David snickered, giving you a playful punch before patting you on the back for a hug.

“To say there’s hope for you is generous.” You smirked at David, elbowing him back as Olivia squealed, running up to you with her arms outstretched, her patience running out as she waited for the grownups to finish talking.

“AUNTIE BEAR!”

“Cutie patootie!” You shrieked back, picking her up and spinning her around.

“Auntie Bear, did Mr. Javi do the surprise? Did you know that Mr. Chucho has cows?! And horses!? I got to go pet one and Brianna did too, but she was scared and cried, but I didn’t ‘cause I’m really brave!” Olivia beamed, giggling as you gave her one last twirl as you set her back down.

“You got to go see the animals? Aren’t they so cute? Yes, Mr. Javi did the surprise, it was a really good one.” You smiled back at Javi, tears welling in your eyes, wondering how your heart could feel any fuller.

“This niñita y su hermana (little girl and her sister) took very good care of the animals this afternoon. Gracias, peque (thanks, little one).” Chucho grinned, reaching down to give Olivia a gentle high five as she bounced in excitement before looking back up at you. “Oh mija. I am so happy for you both. Your family is a hoot, I will tell you that. I see where you get your spunk from.” All of you laughed as you wrapped your arms around Chucho.

“Mr. Peña, that’s a very nice way of calling us the biggest bunch of annoying idiots you’ve ever met, so thank you.” Charlie remarked, making everyone laugh equally as hard as he leaned against you, holding your other niece, Brianna as he ruffled your hair. “I’m so happy for you, Cubby. Natalie says she wishes she could be here, but with the baby, she couldn’t make it out.”

“I’d ask if she was mad, but considering you got these two little monsters and yourself out of her hair, I’m guessing she’s kind of relieved. Tell her we’re excited to meet baby Lucas at Christmas. Thank you, Charlie.”

Now that you had finally said hello to everyone, you turned back around to look at Javi, the look on his face only slightly smug as he winked at you, shaking your head back at him in disbelief. “You are absolutely insane, you know that?” You tried to laugh through your tears, caging your chest against Javi’s as you hugged him, wondering how in the world you had ended up so goddamn lucky. “Thank you, Javi. This is- I can’t- I don’t even know what to say. I love you so much.” Javi reached down, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face as he cupped his hand around your jaw, smiling out at your family before back down at you.

“I told you, Osita. You deserve everything. I’m glad I get to spend forever trying to give it to you. I love you too.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips, quickly interrupted by the sounds of Olivia’s disgust at the two of you.

“Ew, that’s really gross. Auntie Bear, do you have to kiss him now because you’re getting married? Maybe just do that when I’m not here.” She grimaced, covering her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Your family burst out in laughter, only to be interrupted once again by your mom’s excited screams.

“MARRIED! Honey, you’re getting MARRIED!”

“Jesus, Pam! I’m right here! You’re gonna blow out my fuckin’ ear drum!” Your dad winced, covering the sides of his head with his hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re getting married.” You replied to your mom, without breaking your stare up at Javi, your cheeks warm and full from the grins between them.

The rest of the night was spent full of joy and laughter as all of you gathered in the Peña’s kitchen for Chucho’s Thanksgiving feast, telling your family all about the surprises of your day, listening to them explain their antics of getting from Chicago to Laredo, how they had spent the day with Chucho at the ranch after helping set up for the proposal, and stories of Thanksgivings past, and the sweet memories of the family you’d wished could have been here to celebrate. The hours passed by like seconds as you ate more than your fair share of food, (excluding the pie you had made, considering Javi and your brothers practically inhaled it from the moment it was set out on the table), and laughing harder than ever as your family taught Javi and Chucho how to play “Chaos Cutlery”- your family’s version of the game “Spoons”, which wasn’t really that much different besides the element of danger involved with your competitive-ass siblings.

You truly didn’t think that your heart could get any fuller as you looked around to see all of the people you loved more than anyone in the world all gathered in once place, celebrating the happiest day you had ever had with the man you were going to get to call yours for the rest of your life. As the hours of the night grew later and later, you found yourself fighting off the sleep from your amazing, but exhausting day, not wanting the dream that had been today to come to an end. It wasn’t until Javi noticed you softly snoring against his shoulder as you were sitting on the couch, realizing the only ones left awake were him and your brothers, deep in an argument about who would win in a fight between 100,000 chickens and 10 dinosaurs, that he realized that it was probably time to get you home.

“Hermosa.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Baby, let’s get you home, okay?”

“I’m awake. I don’t want today to be done.” You grumbled, half-asleep, eyes still closed shut as you curled into Javi’s lap.

“Osita, it’s 1 in the morning, everyone else is asleep too. Your family’s here all weekend, baby, I promise we’ll get to spend lots of time with them, we gotta get you home before I fall asleep, too. C’mon.” He chuckled to himself, watching you scrunch your face, trying to wake yourself up as he helped to pull you off the couch. Javi tried his best to say goodbye to his dad to let him know you were leaving, even though he had already been sound asleep for the past hour in his chair with Olivia and Brianna on either side of him, the trio up well past their usual bedtime. Javi's heart fluttered at the sight, watching the fabric of your families lives intertwining to become one, fitting perfectly together. After you and your family said your half coherent goodbyes for the night, Javi helped hoist you up into the truck before the two of you headed back to the apartment.

Curling over the center console to rest your head against Javi’s shoulder, a sleepy smile spread across your face tangling your hand in his as he traced gentle circles with his thumb along your skin.

“Javi…” You mumbled, your eyelids heavy with sleep as your blinks grew slower and slower.

“Yeah, baby?”

“This was the best day I think I’ve ever had in my entire life. No, I know it was the best day I’ve ever had in my entire life. I can’t believe you wanna marry me. And build me a house. And that you made sure my family was here to celebrate. I love you so much, Javi. Thank you for everything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Today’s the best day I’ve ever had too, Osita.” He grinned, pulling your intertwined hand with his up to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you too, Hermosa. I can’t imagine it without you. Te amo con todo mi corazón (I love you with all of my heart).” Javi let out a content sigh, pausing for a moment, waiting for response. It didn’t take him long to realize that you were already back asleep, the sweet sounds of your snores against his sleeve making him laugh to himself. “Dulces sueños, mi amor. Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo. (Sweet dreams, my love. I am the luckiest man in the whole world.)

As Javi spent the rest of the drive with you propped up against his arm, he couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful gold band wrapped around your finger, resting in his lap.

Before you, Javier Peña didn’t really have much to live for. He didn’t think he’d deserved to. He was tired and broken, disappointed in the man that he had become. Now, you had become his everything. His light, his hope, the thing that made life worth living. You had taken his broken and battered pieces and put him back together. You had made him whole again. On a Wednesday in May, Javier Peña had fallen head over heels with you, the woman who would forever change his life for the better. And on Thursday in late November, the woman who had forever changed him, was now his forever, too.

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd

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maximotts · 2 months

Text

she hates her ⁘ w. maximoff x n. romanoff

brainrot is real and dangerous! This time it manifested in the idea of an enemies to lovers WandaNat AU in which sorority president Wanda and fraternity president Natasha simply can't stand one another, but Nat finds Wanda's weakness and exploits the fuck out of it. I'm planning to write more of them so I hope you all love these sillies in their enemies phase! P.S. if you know why I named this AU what I did, you're a real one 💖

Seven Things AU. masterlist :: Natasha lives to annoy Wanda so naturally, she plans the Spring Barbeque Night on the lawn of Wanda's sorority without asking and counts down the seconds until she comes down to complain

wc: 4k cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters. sorority!Wanda x fraternity!Natasha. smut. oral (n receiving). strap on sex (w receiving). cum strap. copious insults/hate sex. rough play/manhandling. overstimulation. degradation/humiliation. nat has a seriously filthy mouth and calls wanda lots of names. internal discussions of aftercare.

Wanda hated Natasha Romanoff.

She hated her messy red hair and the cocky way she walked around campus, how unshakably full of herself she always was, no matter how much of an asshole she was being any given moment. And she was constantly an ass, a chronic headache from the first day Wanda met her last year…

Currently Wanda hated Natasha’s heavy boots kicking her knees apart each time she moved them together even an inch.

“You want to get off on sucking my dick so bad, it’s pathetic.” Nat couldn’t stop her long groan and didn’t want to, grip tightening in Wanda’s loosely curled hair as she inched her strap further down the other girl’s throat.

If someone told her last month she’d have the most annoying girl she knew knelt in front of her like this, Natasha would’ve laughed them off; they could barely coexist in a room for more than a few minutes without one of them going off on the other.

They’d found a compromise in fucking each other speechless; mostly Wanda who, for all her holier-than-thou attitude towards the other woman, found herself repeatedly powerless for hidden quickies with Natasha.

Wanda could only claw at Natasha’s thighs, any possible harm dulled by the denim jeans Nat didn’t bother removing. She’d add how stupidly brutish Nat was to her ever-growing list of grievances if it didn’t turn her on so damn much.

The moment the fabric of her harness brushed Wanda’s cheek, they both shivered.

“I’m gonna assume no one’s managed to fuck this pretty mouth of yours this deep yet,” the redhead ground her hips against Wanda’s face slowly, letting her head roll back against the door, willfully ignorant to any discomfort the girl before her endured, “or maybe you’re too much of a bitch for anyone else to bother trying.”

Natasha let up and Wanda growled, disgusted gaze glaring daggers at her tormentor. “You don’t have anyone else to screw with, or have all the girls in town grown tired of your womanizer routine?”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up.” Shoving her forward was all too easy with Wanda caught off guard, burying her tip at the back of her throat so roughly Wanda gagged. Nat drove her hips back and forth at a brutal pace, laughing at the brunette’s sputtering, “That’s it, choke on my cock…”

The two were both too stubborn to break eye contact, Wanda’s wide green eyes watering with embarrassment and Natasha shamelessly getting off to her struggle.

She fucked her steadily, both hands now fisted in Wanda’s hair, the poor girl’s face growing pinker every second as she fought to hide just how much being used like this turned her on. It was no use, the sticky mess of the sorority president’s lip gloss and spit leaving kisses on her fraternity counterpart’s harness, sending Wanda into a dizzying frenzy of arousal that wrenched in the pit of her stomach- and lewdly dripped onto Natasha’s boot.

Oh how Natasha wished her phone wasn’t discarded on Wanda’s nightstand; she’d give anything to have photo evidence of their university’s golden student drooling on her strap and trying desperately to rub herself on her laces. “I bet if I shot a load down your throat you’d cum on the spot… wanna try?”

Nat finally let Wanda take a breath, yanking her away in favor of taking the thick toy in her hand, tapping the head onto the brunette’s already waiting tongue as she nodded desperately. She hadn’t bought this toy for anyone particular, never got much use out of it until she stumbled into Wanda’s secret a few weeks ago; now it was quickly becoming her favorite possession.

An accidentally perfect object to drive Wanda insane.

“Are you gonna let us keep our party on your lawn?”

The question snapped Wanda back to attention, suddenly aware of Natasha’s ulterior motives. There was a strange pang of hurt she felt, only for the briefest of seconds, to know what she was being used for, but it quickly morphed into keen anger. “Absolutely not! Go camp out with someone who actually likes you.”

“Stubborn bitch,” Nat muttered, knocking Wanda backwards. She was unsteady enough for her back to hit the floor with a painful thud, wincing as she met the hard wood of her bedroom. Admittedly, maybe that was a little too harsh, Natasha’s hand reaching out to inspect the girl before she caught herself, remembered who they were to one another, and her originally thoughtful touch became a slap for Wanda’s calf.

In an instant she was kneeling, dragging Wanda’s strawberry printed pajama shorts off to get a good look at her handiwork. They were still new to one another, having only really fallen into rage-fueled quickies, this was Natasha’s first time seeing the full effect she had on Wanda and damn if it wasn’t more intoxicating than all the beers she’d drunk tonight combined. “Pretty mouth and pussy, no wonder I’ve heard you’re good to fuck around with.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, doing her best to tamp down how hot she felt being openly inspected like this, ignoring the sparks she felt as Natasha’s hands parted and pawed at her bare thighs. “Don’t be gross, you pass yourself around more in one weekend than I’ve done my entire life.”

“So I know what I’m doing, Maximoff. Don’t forget I almost made you cum without a single touch just now.” If she cared enough Nat would’ve asked her how many people she actually had been with. Wanda had a reputation for being a tease of epic proportions, flirting cruelly with no intent of following through or, if you’re lucky, getting you off, but for as much gossip Nat heard, she couldn’t think of anyone who could say they’d slept with her.

In truth, the girl was picky, refusing to let anyone get farther than she thought she’d enjoy just as much as they did. Unfortunately Natasha not only met that standard, but rose far above it— the only reason she tolerated her insufferable nature each time they ended up like this. “But I didn’t finish, so get on with it. You’re already starting to bore me- ow!”

The last thing Wanda expected was a slap, stinging and wet, between her legs.

“Whenever you speak, you bore me, but I’m still here…” Her strap slid through the other girl’s cunt effortlessly, the weight of it offering the barest bit of much needed friction, but where Wanda raised her hips, Natasha held them down.

When the tip rested at Wanda’s waiting entrance, the shallowest of motions left her biting her lip to keep from begging. She couldn’t admit how badly she wanted this, how intensely she fought not to wrap her legs around Natasha and take the whole of her all by herself, to sate the persistent empty feeling she’d had since Nat pulled their hips together down on the lawn… “And you’re only here to get the answer you want so go ahead, try and convince me.”

Nat was too selfish to give Wanda time to adjust, pushing inside inch by inch while the girl below her gasped and balled her fists at her sides, too arrogant to grab onto Natasha’s stupid toned arms. But bottoming out felt like mutual heaven and as Wanda felt that cool, rough denim rub under her thighs, she gave in and let her legs clamp about her waist.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Nat muttered, drawing out slowly just to surge forward, quickly setting a pace so brutal Wanda couldn’t hope to keep up. “Would’ve let you use your fingers before if I’d known…”

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, eyes fluttering closed. She hated having to get this from someone she couldn’t stand, body betraying her in the presence of the person she wanted to be miles away from, but she forced her brain to submit along with the rest of her, taking her pleasure in a world where Natasha wasn’t a daily thorn in her side.

She needed to feel overwhelmed, overtaken, out of control— Natasha was the only person bold enough to give her what she was after. And she planned to use it to her full advantage. “No? Does perfect princess Wanda need to be fucked like a filthy slut?”

The woman was a mess of moans, doing her best to ignore Nat until calloused fingers gripped her jaw and yanked her back to reality. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me fuck you dumb.”

When their eyes met again, Wanda’s pupils were blown wide, flushed cheeks pinched together under Nat’s grasp, “I asked you a question, answer me or I’ll leave you here and let everyone outside know you’re locked in your room with your fingers deep in your tight cunt, dreaming of my dick.”

Natasha really wished Wanda wasn’t so fucking pretty with her breathy pants and tousled hair framing her face like a halo; it made sex so much harder not giving the girl exactly what she wanted. “Just fuck me, Romanoff. You have a party to get back to.”

“I do? So you’ll let us stay?” Wanda nearly threw a fit when Natasha stopped again, the thought of being denied twice in one night enough to leave her whining. She was someone people rarely said no to, things simply fell into place for her as she wished, but challenging, thick-headed Natasha… dealing with her was akin to rolling a boulder single-handed.

“Yes, yes fine! Keep your crappy party! Let me cum and you can stay the night for all I care-“ Her eyes were wide open now, focused enough to take in Natasha’s shit-eating grin before she pounded into her once more, faster and more determined now that she’d won.

The redhead never had trouble in bed, satisfying whoever she fell into bed with effortlessly; she was reluctant to admit it’d grown repetitive. So when she ran into a drunk and mopey Wanda stumbling down the hall of her fraternity a few weeks back and cornered her with intention to mock her nighttime walk of shame, Natasha was morbidly curious to hear her confess how sexually unsatisfied she was with such plain honesty.

She couldn’t have predicted Wanda ever being in her room, much less sprawling on her bed like she belonged there and bemoaning her plight. “Is it so hard to just cum on my face? You’d think they’d be excited, but nooo all I get is ‘are you sure that’s what you want?’ Of course I’m sure!”

Natasha was so rarely speechless, but of all possible statements, she’d never expected that one.

Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if Wanda’s guard wasn’t lowered by alcohol. If Natasha hadn’t been standing at the foot of the bed in gray sweatpants that so poorly hid the strap she’d been packing, matching sports bra showing off her toned stomach while she proudly proclaimed she’d have no issue granting Wanda what she was after. If Wanda hadn’t crawled across the mattress to Nat and kissed the taut skin right below her navel before taking those cotton pants between her teeth and pulling, staring Natasha down with a ferocity she never imagined would make her feel anything but a primal rage-

But that night played out as it did and now they were here, another evening spent indulging each other in acts they couldn’t ask of anyone else.

Wanda didn’t announce how close she was, didn’t give Natasha the satisfaction of knowing just how good of an orgasm she’d given her— the woman above her still knew. She’d heard Wanda cry out for her before and she’d already come this far: Natasha wouldn’t stop until she had Wanda begging. “You’re supposed to say thank you when I’m nice to you.”

“In your dreams, playboy.”

Fighting words were routine, but the glob of spit landing on Natasha’s cheek colored her vision red. For a moment, the tension in the air felt too thick, bedroom eerily quiet as Nat’s grip flexed into the plush thighs spread before her, clenched jaw only accentuating her dangerous glare. Maybe Wanda would be afraid if she hadn’t hit the exact nerve she’d aimed for.

“Brats like you never behave for long, huh?” Dragging Wanda across the floor, Natasha rammed into still recovering sex, cupping the back of her knee and forcing her leg into her chest while the other stayed trapped against the wood. The new angle was deeper than Wanda had ever been treated to and her choked sob alone almost made up for Natasha being spit on.

Almost.

“Always such an insufferable… ungrateful…” She grumbled, losing her train of thought as her focus dropped down, suddenly fixated on the now drenched toy at her hips stretched around Wanda’s tight hole, ever growing mess close to dripping onto her ass.

Wanda wasn’t new to people staring at her, most days it boosted her already impressive confidence levels, but the way Natasha watched, always sizing her up like prey to be hunted and devoured, that was different. When she wasn’t looking at her with apathy it was contempt, anything to remind Wanda she wasn’t infallible as she thought she was, but this —Natasha so obviously getting off to her, so desperately rocking her pelvis against Wanda’s whenever she bottomed out in search of friction— made the brunette feel craved.

“What’s the matter, run out of insults?” Nat hadn’t noticed her mouth hanging open until it felt dry, snapping out of her lustrous thoughts to lick her full lips. Seconds from verbal retort, she decided on a better course, one equally as selfish as Wanda’s earlier orgasm: she could very easily knock the girl down some much needed pegs while making it worth her time.

“Just wondering how a spoiled little cumslut like you thinks it’s in your best interest to mouth off.” Wanda didn’t have time to be taken aback, Natasha’s sudden change of angle driving her round tip into that elusive spot deep inside over and over; she cursed her drunken self babbling to her rival that she was the only person, including herself, to find it.

“Shit, Romanoff, slow down-!” She thought for sure Natasha wouldn’t remember, had her pegged as the type of lover who had to learn everything over each time, but no, Nat was the opposite and now she knew too much.

“Shut your mouth and play with your tits.” The command was blunt, powerful enough in its delivery that Wanda didn’t question, shaky hands sliding under her shirt while she struggled not to finish her second time unexpectedly early.

She was slow in her touches, too slow for Natasha’s energetic pace, and the loose cotton fabric hid the view; two things Nat instantly got tired of. “Get your damn shirt out of the way, and I don’t want any of your silly shy shit- I told you to play with them.”

Wanda would kill Nat if she ever told a soul she whimpered, would deny having clenched around Nat in response to her exerting control… still she wrenched her shirt over her head as quick as she could and her hands flew back to her chest. She forced her eyes to stay open, smugly committing the sight of Natasha panting in time with her thrusts, light green eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers teasing her dusty pink nipples into hardness.

“You’re such a creep, I bet you’ll be jerking off to this for weeks,” she mumbled, pinching the sensitive peaks between her thumb and forefinger, moaning louder than intended as she matched Natasha’s motions.

Nat huffed, couldn’t bother denying that yes, she would definitely be thinking about Wanda spread wide open and touching herself for a long time. Her partner would to, though, mind wandering to Natasha ordering her around next time she found herself alone and needy.

Wanda made the mistake of watching Nat’s tongue swipe over her lips, traitorous brain wondering what the smooth muscle would feel like instead of her chilly fingertips, how warm and wet her mouth would be if she ever dared to suck—

This time when the dam broke, she was too distracted to censor herself, back arching and body trembling uncontrollably. If Nat’s focus had lapsed for just two seconds she would’ve missed Wanda utter her name, soft and breathy, syllables stuttered as if she pronounced it for the first time. “Aww poor princess, was that too much for you?”

“Go fuck yourself…” The words were weak, embarrassingly so, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to laugh at her attempt.

“Already working on it, smartass,” Nat didn’t falter for a second through Wanda’s second high, meeting wave after wave as the girl finally stopped pretending she didn’t want this just as much and raised her hips with each thrust.

The redhead had long since made a mess of her own underwear, sticky wetness coating the base of her strap to aid her now desperate grinding into Wanda, rubbing her neglected sex against the textured silicone. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when Wanda insisted on mewling so maddeningly, freshly manicured nails digging into Natasha’s sides as she fought overstimulation.

“You’re being too rough-!” Wanda couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice knowing once again it was Natasha who’d rendered her so vulnerable, but this was always her favorite part, being used and treated so carelessly; the thing she and Nat never properly talked about, but knew she needed.

“But I’m so close, don’t you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt?” Nat taunted, bending over so she could kiss Wanda’s temple. “I think you’ve almost been a nice enough fuck tonight to earn it.”

“God, just do it!” Nat was humping against her so hard it hurt, but then the dull sting ebbed in place of a new sensation -two deft fingers rolling over her swollen clit- and Wanda could only briefly process she was well and truly done for before her mind melted away.

“So demanding for someone so needy… try asking nicely.” Fortunately for Natasha’s rapidly approaching orgasm, Wanda didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, submitting with a barely audible please. “Please what, you know what I wanna hear.”

Wanda could slap herself for being so weak later, maybe when she took a shower and realized how she actually loved being made to beg so helplessly. “Please Natasha, please please, I want you to cum in me!”

“Good girl, there’s those perfect manners,” Nat came with a series of grunts, jerkily rutting while she filled Wanda like she’d been thinking of doing since she stomped out of her house and tried to break up their party.

She’d been so angry, shouting and pointing her finger in everyone’s faces, treating her and her friends like they were rowdy kids. The others mumbled apologies, deferring to Wanda like the figurehead she decided she was, but Natasha loved a challenge, especially one she’d planned on having after purposefully planting themselves on the sorority lawn. Nat wasn’t scared of Wanda, not before this arrangement and certainly not after; now she knew exactly how to fix any argument that popped up.

When Natasha finally pulled out, there was a dampness to the front of her shirt and jeans and again, she wanted to reach over for her camera. Instead she settled for sliding her hands to where Wanda was red and oh so wet, abused hole fluttering as their combined arousal leaked out. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste on the floor, two fingers collecting what’d escaped and, much to Wanda’s exhausted surprise, pushing it back in.

“I’m too sensitive for that…” Twisting away was futile, Natasha still firmly planted between her thighs. She had half a mind to kick her until she saw Nat’s free hand angling her cock down, painting Wanda’s lower half with thick ropes of cum while her thumb nudged her hardened bud, and dull throbs of new arousal twisted her stomach into cramps. “Stop-!”

The pleasure in it was fleeting, the pain of exhaustion winning out, but it wasn’t until she sobbed pitifully that Natasha finally glanced up at Wanda’s anguished face and backed off. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine…” Wanda refused to entertain the idea that any bit of Nat’s concern was real; if she dwelled long enough, she’d ruin her afterglow with too many conflicting thoughts. It didn’t matter if the redhead actually cared anyways, her touch, now slowly smoothing over Wanda’s sore hips, started to burn as Wanda came back to her senses. “Just get your hands off me, idiot.”

Natasha could’ve pushed and maybe if it was someone she was supposed to care about she would’ve, but her worry swerved towards brushing off Wanda’s rejection, defaulting back to what they did best: hate each other. “A greedy whore and a squirter, probably a crier too if I bed you on the right day… better hope your secrets are safe with me, princess.”

Her heart dropped thinking about her sex life becoming the latest gossip, but she could only feebly push her away, head twisting to the side just so she could look anywhere but Natasha and her insolent self. “Well you’ve got to have some kind of funny story to tell everyone when you go back the party. I know you’re always low on those.”

Eventually she managed sitting up, stretching out her back and arms, inadvertently giving Natasha one last unobstructed view of her before retrieving her discarded t-shirt and putting it back in place. “Or you could crack open another beer and share how you drool like a baby every time you see my tits, that’s a conversation starter for sure.”

Needing a soft surface for her now aching body, Wanda clumsily climbed into bed, unceremoniously using Nat’s shoulder to lean on as she maneuvered. True, Natasha tended to kiss and tell, but something about doing the same to Wanda felt wrong, at least to be as detailed as she typically was. Maybe it was just the pride she got from being the only person Wanda’s actually fucking; she wanted to keep that for herself.

“Could always come back downstairs with me and we’ll tell them together.” Natasha didn’t need much clean up, zipping her jeans back and standing awkwardly next to Wanda’s now prone form. Neither of them knew how to handle the ‘after’ yet, Nat’s tendency to check in on even her most casual of partners always ignored by Wanda who knew she’d undoubtedly needed that care but couldn’t stomach the possibility of being one in a string of partners.

So they avoided it as much as possible. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever be seen anywhere with you, playboy.”

Wanda felt a different kind of yearning just then, one that dared her to give Nat the option to stay and her cheeks flushed all over again. Her solution was rolling over until her back was to Natasha, steeled herself to stay that way until she was left alone.

Nat sighed, long and audibly irritated, pondering the pros and cons of offering to do something together up here, a calm, private thing where she could sate that instinct to watch over Wanda without explicitly doing just that… but it’d require admitting she wouldn’t mind hanging out with Wanda and she did not want that.

“Sorry, I should’ve said if you wanted to take a night off of being an impossible bitch, you can actually try to enjoy yourself.”

The door closed behind her and Wanda could breathe again, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She felt empty and not only between her legs; unfortunately for Wanda, Natasha was no longer around to take her frustrations out on. “Stupid asshole..”

Eventually her night ended dangerously close to feigning some illness to lure Natasha’s attention back when she fell asleep and Nat’s, uncharacteristically leaving her party alone with the excuse of having forgotten her phone on the Wanda’s nightstand. She certainly didn’t use the opportunity to see Wanda again, surveying her sleep before pulling a blanket over the brunette’s shivering form.

#wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat au #seven things au #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #motts writes.#maximotts

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